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The Hamster Killer!

The vet is a horrible, stinking, disgusting and intrusive place, to the point you wonder if it encroaches on perversion. I can’t back that last statement up but goddamit they scare the willies out of me, for some dogs that’s fact. I must admit the ride over there in the car is the only consolation.

As we neared the building my tongue felt salon blow-dried to the point it wouldn’t fit back into my mouth. But there it was, the building of disrepute, the land of pain and strange exotic smells. But I have to be brave, this is my own fault and I must face my fears.

I feel as though if anyone were to create a time machine, they would be driven by the desire to change a stupid comment that made them look like a complete lemon. In my case I called my owner a “nagging old shower of poo”. This behavior is frowned upon, epically when coming from a dog that is supposed to bark.

I have chosen to keep my communication skills quiet since then, seeing as it caused the food giver to have a nervous break down. I suppose this is the reason why I make my way to the butcher of hamsters. I’ve been told he keeps a necklace of gerbil ears under his white coat.

“Well is this the little fella? Well ello my smoochy liddle poochy woochy.” See, pure evil. “What seems to be the problem? Hurty paw? Naughty tummy?” He’s probably thinking about how best to cook me. “Well lets see if Mr. and Misses knows what the problem is ay?” It took all my strength not to tell him to shove that cold thermometer up his jacksy.

“The little bastard called me a massive pile of shit!” It’s a difficult challenge to completely describe the screech that food giver number 1 bellowed when she said shit. “Um well this isn’t really my area, you know… um our talking dog specialist is on holiday. “

A shifty silence ensued, with equally shifty eyes. An uncomfortable period of silence unused, where nobody wished to break it “Bollocks! I said poo! If you’re going to dob me in to the evil hamster killer then at least have the common courtesy to get it right!

If silence were an Olympic sport then this lot would be famous. Then suddenly someone started to gently sob. “It was a hamster virus that hit the town I tell you!” And the vet ran from the observation room whimpering. As we walked in frustrating silence to the car we heard a heavy run on gravel struggling behind us.

“Weight! Please! Please weight!” watching a dangerously overweight veterinarian running lightens up any awkward moments. Between pants the vet splurted out “Your…. Your dog… It bloody talked!” Food giver number one slowly edged towards the vet and drew herself up to her highest height as close to his nose as possible and screamed.

“Tell me something I don’t know hamster boy!” Then we sped off flinging up gravel dust over the vet. It was at this point that I had a newfound respect for humans, even if they seemed to be a tad emotional.

Photo courtesy of Albert Bridge at Geograph


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