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Gibbs, chilling out in his box‘So, Gibbs, are you feeling a bit better today? You were very quiet yesterday.’

‘Thank you for noticing Casey.  Monday was traumatic, to say the least.’

‘It was only the vets, Gibbs. Anyone would think you were being murdered.’

‘Oh, so you enjoyed your trip to the vet last Friday, did you?’

‘Not exactly, Gibbs, but we have to do it.  No point crying about it.  Each year, we see the vet, we have an injection, and we come home again.’

‘You might have only had an injection, Casey, but I had the flea thing on my neck, and a wormer pill thrust down my throat.’

‘Oh, sorry, Gibbs, that is hard.’

‘Bill is a nice man, Casey.  He always gives me a cuddle – but he’s nice to me one minute then stabbing me the next.’

‘Mum wouldn’t let anyone hurt us, Gibbs.  She was there, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes, of course she was.  With her mask on.’

‘Did you have to wait long in the waiting room, Gibbs?’

‘Mum and Dad were with me, Casey.  There were other people with their pets; there were a couple of dogs and three other cats in baskets.’

‘How did you pass the time, Gibbs? It can be a bit boring waiting to see the vet.’

‘I sang the song of my peoples, Casey.  It was a lament from the heart and before long, the other three cats were singing as well. It was a beautiful sound, sad, poignant, and with great feeling.’

‘I bet the dogs liked your singing, Gibbs.’

‘Oh, they loved it, Casey.  One dog, a little one not much bigger than us, started singing as well.  He added just the right level of harmony.  The other dog, a fluffy thing with no face, just yapped a bit.  I don’t think he’s very musical because it did jar a bit, but he meant well.’

‘Sounds absolutely wonderful, Gibbs. I expect the humans loved the song of your peoples.’

‘I’m not sure, Casey.  It was hard to tell. What did you do when you went to the vet last Friday? Did you sing?’

‘I did sing for a little while, Gibbs, but I usually give them a present, a souvenir of my visit.’

‘Did you? Gosh, Casey, that’s very thoughtful of you.  What did you give them?’

‘Well, Gibbs, rule #391 of the Feline Code of Ethics clearly states that when you visit someone, you should always give them a gift. So, after I sang my song for a little while, I did a big stinky poo.  Everyone loved that.’

‘I bet they did, Casey.’

‘Suddenly, I was called in to see the vet, Gibbs.  She was very impressed with the two sausages lying neatly side by side in my basket.  She even took them out the back.  Probably giving them to some of the other vets that don’t get such thoughtful presents.’

‘I’ll have to remember that the next time we go for our boosters, Casey.  A poo is – to be honest – the kind of gift that takes no time at all to conjure up, does it.’

‘Well, it does take a certain amount of skill, Gibbs, in their positioning, size, and smell factor. They have to be just right.’

‘No, you’re right, Casey.  My song was wonderful, of course, but it took it out of me, doing all that lamenting.  Although, when the other three cats and the little dog joined in, it was worth it.’

‘We’ll mark it on the calendar for next year, Gibbs, so that we’re ready with our plan.’

‘Good idea, Casey.  I feel a nap coming on.’

‘Me too, Gibbs.’

 

 

Dogs Come when Called

"Dogs come when called. Cats take a message and get back to you."

"Of course, every cat is really the most beautiful woman in the room."

Edward Verrall Luca (essayist)