Untitled Short Pet Story #2


                                            Master could tell something was wrong. When you scuttled under the coffee table with your tail between your legs, Master could tell something was amiss. The pain of your organs knotting and curdling was almost more than you could bear. You had to make a conscious effort to keep from throwing up, even breathing was becoming a chore. Something was very wrong.


                                            Before long, Master had made the call. You had never been to the vet before, the thought is very intimidating. This would not be a fun and enjoyable place like the park, this would be a serious place, devoid of fun and enjoyable things. You can’t say you were looking forward to it.


                                            From the edge of the coffee table, Master’s face appeared. “Blossom, sweetheart, we’re going to take you to the vet, okay?”


                                            The mention of the vet again made you whimper, but you nodded meekly in reply.


                                            Master disappeared and promptly returned with the pet carrier, which he placed facing you with the door open. It wasn’t the most inviting place to be, especially in the way you were feeling, but Master encouraged you inside with gentle words. “Come on Blossom, you’ll be okay.”


                                            You put your trust in Master’s words, and so you tentatively wander into the carrier, where Master shuts the door behind you.


                                            The first thing you noticed about the vet was the smell. It was a mixing pot of scents, every kind of animal you could think of had left their mark on this waiting room. Fortunately, you were the only ones here, and before long the vet was seeing you.


                                            She reached into the carrier and lifted you out. She was gentle, but you would have preferred to depart the carrier on your own terms. You had worried that they would separate you from Master during all this, but fortunately he had stayed in the room and made small talk with the vet.


                                            The tools you were prodded with were numerous, but none of them were as uncomfortable as the syringe the vet brought to the examination table. You would have preferred it if it were a needle, but instead she forced your mouth open and made you drink the awful-tasting brown sludge from the nozzle. After that, you were more than relieved to return to your carrier.


                                            The vet gave a box of pills to Master, but you’re not sure where they went; it’s been a few months, and you never saw them again, but you certainly feel better now.