HILLSPEAKING
from The Anglican Digest
TRANSFIGURATION A.D. 2005
IT HAS been a while since I wrote about the Hillspeak Cats.
They are as ubiquitous as ever and inasmuch as Mo and I had quite a
tussle
recently this seems to be a good time to do so.
The tussle had to do with a difference of opinion. I opined
it was a good time for Mo’s annual visit to our friendly neighborhood
veterinarian for shots and a check up. Mo opined that no time is a good
time
for such a demeaning and utterly useless visit. Mo was vehement about
the
matter and the resultant tussle saw her food dish and water bowl
overturned and
left me out of breath. At eleven years of age, Mo is in her prime and
at,
fifteen pounds (all of it muscle), the largest of the Hillspeak Cats.
She traveled to the clinic in a PetTaxi®, swearing a blue
streak all the way, and vowing eternal vengeance on all those involved
in the
dastardly deed in any fashion whatsoever.
There are innumerable jokes about the Texas Aggies (the
managing editor of TAD is an Aggie—but don’t tell him I told you), not
all of
them confined to the state of Texas.
Be that as it may, I can testify that the School
of Veterinary Medicine at
Texas
A&M turns out some very fine veterinarians. When Dr Pike started
examining
Mo, she was as meek as a lamb!
He poked and prodded, turned her on her back so he could
examine her belly, gave her three shots—not a sound. When he finished
his
examination she calmly crawled back into the PetTaxi® and curled up
to take a
nap. On the way home, however, she did have a few things to say—but
they were
all directed at me. I was to blame for the whole thing.
Ptolemy, considering his Egyptian heritage, so claimed, was
a bit haughty about the whole process (how many of us want our dentist
to pull
back our upper and lower lips). He grumbled a bit about having to ride
in the PetTaxi
® (he would much rather drape himself over my shoulder while I
drive), but took
the examination and the shots stoically.
Two down and two to go.
Minie is really a pussy-cat. He puts up a big show, but most
of the time he just wants to go with the flow. Provided, that is, the
flow
leads to chow or milk. He does have a tendency to mix his mornings
(when he
gets milk) and evenings (when he doesn’t). A little studied ignoring on
my
part, however, eventually convinces him that milk is not forthcoming
after the
sun has crossed the yardarm. His visit to the vet, although patently
not to his
liking, was without incident.
And then there was Gray, the oldest and lightest and the
undisputed matriarch. She who crawls into every box that comes in to
the Barn
and routinely sleeps in a waste basket, was not at all interested in
entering
the PetTaxi®.
Only with our secretary’s help did I get her into it for her
rendezvous with destiny, but, like Mo, she submitted to the poking and
prodding
and shots patiently and gracefully.
Yep, Texas A&M turns out some very fine
veterinarians. Thank you, Dr Pike.
©SPEAK, INC
805 CR 102 - EUREKA SPRINGS AR 72632-9705
PHONE: 479-253-9701 FAX:
479-253-1277 E-MAIL: speak@speakinc.org
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