Tales of Ella the Circus Dog
2006-02-23 5:22 PM
Doctor.
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Cat and I go to Doctor today. It is my annual. Doctor pokes and prods and runs hands over my back. She moves my joints. She opens my mouth. My pearly whites dazzle her. Good teeth, she says. Yeeaaaah, I say. What a cutie, she says. I like this Doctor. She takes out a needle like the People use on Poodle, but, of course, I am not Poodle, and I don’t remember this part about seeing Doctor, but it’s over before I know it, and now I know why Poodle doesn’t bite the People when they take the needle to her. Doctor sets me down on the floor. They must not see how little I am.
It is not Cat’s annual. I don’t know why Cat is here. Doctor puts him in a big dish and Cat tries to get out but they wave hands in front of his face until Doctor says Ten point two. And there’s something in the way she says it. I look at the People and stand up on my back legs to check on Cat. Doctor is poking him like she poked me, only Cat has made himself boneless, and with Doctor’s hand supporting Cat’s chest, his front legs look very long. Probably my angle. I walk along the length of the table on my back legs until Doctor sees me and asks, Is this your kitty up here? Kitty, Cat, Feline, Puss, Ziggy—all of these say he is mine.
They take Cat away. My People take me to the auto. I sit in my auto seat and watch the People go back into Doctor’s. I wait. After a while, my People come out with Cat in his house and put him in the front seat of the auto. Cat is not happy. He howls on the way home. I watch out the window at the trees zipping by.
When we get home, Labrador meets me at the door and nuzzles me under her chest until she’s standing right over me so she can take in the scent of my puncture. I try to get Poodle’s attention, but she ignores me. Punctures don’t mean a thing to Poodle.
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