A TU student investigates if millennials pay more for their pets’ insurance than their own.
A recent study from MIT’s top experts showed that pets receive better health insurance than millenials of the same age. The MIT researcher conducted a survey over the period of three days and while the details have not yet come to light, the statistical analysis generated a bitter truth that has struck many college students and recent graduates.
While many students have been skeptical about the results of this report, they have not been able to prove or disprove any sort of evidence. Therefore, as a student with roommates constantly hinting about getting an animal of sorts, I have taken the burden of responsibility to investigate the truth myself. Below are my observations and documentations taken over the past month.
5 a.m., Sept. 1, 2018: My roommates Kimb and Cory are murmuring in their rooms. I go closer to investigate. Upon further analysis, I realize they are sharing cute animal videos on YouTube, something about overweight squirrels. All is clear, all is quiet. I go back to my room and sleep.
3:29 a.m., Sept. 9, 2018: I am over at a friends apartment to play a lighthearted round of Monopoly when my friend excuses herself from the table. She then proceeds to walk over to the kitchen cabinet, open it, and inject herself with an epi-pen.
“Are you okay?” I ask, confused and slightly worried.
“Don’t worry about it, I still have six of them left. I’m just kinda allergic to my cat.” She smiles and comes back to the table. I am confused. “Why do you have a cat if you’re so allergic to it?”
She takes a deep breath and rolls a nine on the dice. It lands her straight into jail. “I guess it’s just nice to know that if finals don’t kill me there’s always Sparkles to finish off the job.”
“Huh.” I respond. I leave her home that evening with a bit of confusion and a lot of inner reflection. I wonder if her insurance is better than her cats.
9:02 a.m., Sept. 15, 2018: I awake Saturday morning to the feeling of something moving over my blanket. I open my eyes, groggy and confused, as my nose met the wet lick of a small tongue. I grab my glasses and stick them on, only to come face-to-face with a small dog.
“His name is Mr. Nutt,” Kimb and Cory coos happily at me, and I am suddenly reminded of the serious undercover investigation I am shrouded in.
I nod and pet the puppy. “Just let me know what insurance you get him, if any,” I smoothly interject, and my roommates nod back, unsuspecting.
“Haha, that’s kinda weird, but sure fam.” They take their little puppy and leave me to my thoughts. I fall back asleep.
Sept. 25, 2018: The animal, “Mr. Nutt,” has made himself at home. I am constantly ignored in favor of tending to the new puppy. Every time I open my mouth to say something, the puppy does something incredibly rude, therefore interrupting me and the attention of my roommates.
“Who wants to come study in my sick crib?” I ask, and immediately, the dog drops a small brown bomb onto the carpet.
“Does anyone want to make cookies with—” The creature would start whining.
“Courtney, Mr. Nutt needs to go on a walk. We’ll make cookies with you later, okay?” They still haven’t.
Sept. 27, 2018: When alone with Mr. Nutt, I try various ways to assert my own dominance. “Who’s your daddy?” I ask when he ignores me, and then I snicker. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Using this technique, coupled with some others I have learned from experienced pet owners, I have been able to achieve many small victories. The puppy has become more well-trained.
On a side note, my roommate Kimb is currently sick with a case of strep. We don’t know for sure though because that’d be 20$. Cory and I stay a minimal radius of 2 meters away, but Mr. Nutt doesn’t care and is constantly toying with fate, licking her whenever he gets the chance. I do not hope for his demise but let’s just say if Mr. Nutt became Mr. No-More I’d be okay.
7:23 p.m., Sept. 28, 2018: I return from class, tired and hungry. My roommates wave Hi, and I nod back, earbuds still blasting “Dope vaporwave lofi 24 hr study vibes” tunes. I drop my stuff and go back outside to the kitchen, opening the fridge door to see what sad vegetables await my chopping block tonight.
Cory taps my shoulder. “Hey since you keep asking about Mr. Nutt’s insurance plan, here it is,” she says. “We already got him the first half of his vaccines.”
I slowly close the refrigerator door. “What’s the company?” I ask carefully, trying to hide the shaking of my hands. I had been researching extensively, and this was the moment of truth. It was time to disprove MIT, once and for all.
“Oh, I have no idea. I just know his plan covers more issues than the TU insurance because I compared my benefits to his. Isn’t that funny? Apparently, if he even sneezes six times in a row, I can send him to the doctor, and they’d give me free dog food to ensure he’s not allergic to anything he’s eating, and he’d come back with a new free collar and two chew toys.”
“Oh,” I say. “Good for him.” I laugh once, a lifeless “Ahaa,” and return to my bed. I did not return to human interaction until Oct. 1.
The results of my research, I have decided, are inconclusive. I did not have enough evidence to prove that all pets have better insurance. What does that mean for you, troubled reader?
Do not fret. Just know that it’s okay. We still have more thumb dexterity than them, and that is all that matters.
