Posts Tagged ‘veterinarian’

veteranarian

When she was young, my daughter Rachael had a pet hamster. She named him Wilbur. She would set Wilbur beside her while she watched cartoons on TV and play with him during the commercials. That is, if he didn’t sneak off while she wasn’t paying attention.

Now, hamsters are not known for their longevity. One day Rachael brought Wilbur to me and said something was wrong with him. He was stiff, cold and not breathing.

“Honey, I’m afraid Wilbur is dead.” I said softly.

“No, he isn’t!” she protested.

“I’m pretty sure he is.” I replied.

“No, we have to take him to the doctor, she cried.

So we took him to a veterinarian.

The vet broke the news to Rachael. “Rachael, Your father is correct. It was Wilbur’s time to go, and he is no longer with us.” Then he said to me, “That’ll be $10 for the visit.”

Amid Rachael’s sobbing and disbelief, I asked, “You’re absolutely sure he’s gone?”

“Well, just a minute,” he said, and brought in a calico tabby. The cat licked Wilbur from head to toe, then lowered her head and gave a soft, “meow.” The vet then brought in a Golden Retriever. The dog sniffed Wilbur, then lowered his head and gave a soft, “woof.” “That’s conclusive, said the vet. “He’s definitely dead,” and added, “that will be $250 for the visit.”

“Now wait a minute,” I said, “It was only a $10 visit a minute ago.”

“Well, yes,” said the vet. “That was before you ordered the cat scan and the lab test.”

   Uncle Ezra had a cat that had been on the farm for all his life. He was a great ‘mouser’, and would kill the rats that tried to get in Uncle Ezra’s feed corn.

   This one week, however, the cat was in no mood to chase the rats. He just laid around, licking his belly ever so often. He wouldn’t move, and he didn’t look well. Uncle Ezra got worried and called the vet.

   Uncle Ezra described what was happening, and the vet told him it sounded like simple constipation. The vet had rounds to make, but said if Ezra would give the cat a cup-and-a-half of Castor oil, he would stop by and check on the animal on his way home.

   That evening, the veterinarian stopped by Ezra’s. “How’s your calf doing?” he asked. “Calf” asked Uncle Ezra. “It wasn’t a calf that was sick – it was my cat.”

   “You didn’t give the cat a cup-and-a-half of Castor oil, did you?” “Why, yes,” said Uncle Ezra, “I thought that was what you wanted me to do.” “Oh, my! Where is the poor little creature?” the vet asked.

   Uncle Ezra said, “Well, last time I seen him, he was headed out across the field with three other cats. One was digging holes, one was covering them up, and the third was scouting new territory.”