What's your definition of a ridiculous sum? We're not talking about making our pets immortal here. Eventually a pet will die, and yes, that is an important life experience for kids. If I choose to drop $1000 on my pet to save it's life, and I can afford to do that, have I lost my "sense of direction"?
I cannot answer for him, but now that I've read this thread, and have thought about it, I've decided that there is a scale that I can personally apply.
First, what are
my means. If I can afford it, no one can really be over critical with what I do with
my money. If I'm financially well-off, $1000 is certainly not out of line. I have to wonder, though, some of the pet lovers who spend $1000 on a dog or cat, while their family lives in squalor.
Second, what kind of
fix are you actually accomplishing? Is it going to truly benefit the animal, or are you doing it because you selfishly want to put off saying good-bye to a pet, that will suffer because of the
fix. Pets don't understand anything but the immediate pain.
Third, apparently the type of animal makes a difference. People tend to value dogs more than cats, and cats more than rodents and fish. (Funny thing, turtles and birds haven't been mentioned, even though as pets, some turtles, and some birds have similar life spans to humans, and would make decent pets for those who don't want their pets to die in their own life time.)
While I like to tell stories about growing up on the farm, and some of the hard decisions we made vis-a-vis animals, I can also tell stories about how my dad put an inordinate amount of money into particular animals' survival. We once saw a sow chewing on something, and she dropped it. Dad picked it up, and it was a baby kitty, still moving a little, but it was cruched up pretty bad, and it's insides were pretty much now on the outside. Surprisingly to me, Dad cleaned it up with iodine, put some anti-bacterial ointment on it, and put the cat giblets back in it, and gave it some shots from the vet cabinet.
Later that day, the Vet showed up for some other reason, and took a look at her. He was skeptical, but he did some work putting bones back in the right place, on the tailgate of his pickup.
She was black, with a little white horseshoe on her chest, and we named her "Lucky". In a little over a month of nursing her back to health, and feeding her with an eyedropper, she was back to normal health for a kitty, and she become "my" cat.
Later on, she repaid us by being a mouser from heck. I would put a cat harness around her chest, and tie her to 50' of clothesline, and lower her into grain bins, where she'd catch a mouse, and I'd reel her in. Never let her eat the mouse until she'd caught them all, and then I'd feed her as many as she could eat, after we were done "working".