Why I have an emergency fund (a.k.a my furry sweetheart)

Back on a day in March 2018, I noticed my cat, Regina, was breathing a little oddly. I kept trying to cuddle her, and she kept pulling away and trying to slink behind the columns of her cat tree. This was very unusual behavior for her, and I called her vet. Thankfully, the doctor was able to squeeze us in that afternoon, so I rushed Regina over.

It was bad news: Advanced cancer, heart disease or heart failure. “Go,” our vet told me. Sobbing, I caught a cab and rushed over to the Animal Medical Center on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. I stroked Regina’s head and cried the entire ride over. Occasionally she would wanly look over at me, but she was so weak she could barely lift her head.

The vet had called in advance, and the emergency room at AMC was ready for me. They took her, and I went, still sobbing, to the lobby. It was indeed heart failure, they told me. I don’t remember much about that day, but I remember my then-boyfriend (now husband) arriving from his own busy day, I remember the feeling that I might lose her, I remember sitting in the cold plastic chair in the hallway in my coat and scarf and wondering what would happen.

At some point, someone from the hospital pulled me aside into a little room to talk to me about money. “Right now we’re in the hundreds of dollars,” she said. “If we do more procedures we’re going to get into the thousands.” I didn’t care, I told her. Spend the money. Save Regina’s life.

And they did! Oh my god, Animal Medical Center saved my floofy angel’s life! They drained the fluid from her lungs, and, over the next two days and three nights, they kept her in an oxygen cage to get rid of the last of the fluid in her lungs. She was came home, along with a lot of prescriptions, healthy but still annoyed at her time in the hospital.

The hospital worker didn’t lie: The bill was in the thousands. Not gonna lie, it absolutely sucked. It was a painfull bill, especially since we were getting married in two months and had plenty of those bills to take care of, as well. But I was able to pay it, and to pay it off in one go, because I had a good sized emergency fund. Three to six months of expenses is the rule of thumb people generally suggest, and that was about what I had.

So when disaster struck, I had somewhere to go to handle the bills that came with it all. I didn’t have to go into debt, I didn’t have to carry credit debt, I didn’t have to worry about making rent or finding my next meal while also trying to save my very beloved cat. Everything that happened to Regina that day in March 2018 was completely unexpected — an emergency in every sense of the word. One day she was fine; the next day she couldn’t breathe, her lungs were full of fluid and she was perhaps hours away from death.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I know I speak from a place of great privilege. I make enough money that I can have an emerency fund, and that I can keep that money set aside until and unless I need it. I realize not everyone can do that, or can do that without significant sacrifice.

But if you can, build an emergency fund. Keep that money tucked away for when something — something unforeseen, something bad, something expensive — happens.