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Sundry

Night Vet

The cat is okay.

The night vet … the night vet is okay.

I wait in the lobby, sprawled on a bench. At one point there’s more of a crowd. I sit up and set the carrier on the floor.

I wait. And I wait. Staff have called in sick, but the triage nurse is on top of things.

I watch the parade. A family comes in with a dog. The dog is in trouble. They go back right away.

I wait. And I wait. Another family comes in with another dog. This dog is in trouble. They go back right away.

I wait, and I watch the families return, one by one, teary eyes. No dog.

I wait. The front desk quietly chatter about clients selecting urns.

I wait. The front desk staff leave.

It is 2am. I see the Doctor. We run through The History together. I am not very good answering questions. My middle aged mind doesn’t run full tilt at 2am. The bulb on the cat’s nose that is filled with puss, one can squeeze like a zit. “Your cat is not very happy with me now.” Fair enough. A prescription for something that can stimulate appetite. Wear gloves and rub it in the ear. Alright.

We get home. The cat is hungry. I feed her. I may not need to rub medicine in her ears.

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