The cat carrier meant only one thing, or so I thought.
Until Linda, my lovely mistress, took me into a shop. A shop? There I was, bumping along, Linda not being the graceful mover, and looking at people’s knees through my wire cage. And sniffing. Lots of interesting smells here, not unpleasant, a bit like the bathroom after Linda’s taken a shower, washed her hair and shaved her legs. Why do humans shave their legs? I don’t understand.
Then she started looking at packets of pills. Not for me, I hope?
‘Which painkiller is best for toothache?’ Linda jabbed her finger into her mouth as if the assistant she was speaking to wouldn’t know where her teeth were.
I knew about toothache. I’ve had it for months, but we cats are stoical, just curl up and wait for it to go away.
Hang on. Linda’s bought some tablets. Would I get to prize her mouth open, clamp it shut and stroke her throat? Would she spit out the pill out after twenty minutes as I do?
Now we were leaving the shop, crossing the road and into a familiar doorway. Hm. I was right after all. ‘She’s not eating,’ said Linda, as the vet dragged me out of my cat carrier, despite my shrinking into the back of it and clutching the bars with my claws.
‘Mm.’ He prodded my stomach and dazzled me with his torch as he looked into my eyes and mouth. ‘Aah! Broken tooth.’
‘Oh, my poor kitty,’ said Linda, laying her hand on my head.
Then I heard the word ‘extraction’ several times, and ‘This afternoon’. Mm. What is an ‘extraction’? I don’t like the sound of this at all.
That awful Linda, she left me at the vet, stuck in this carrier, all by myself. Later the vet returned and I would’ve bitten him except… everything went fuzzy.
When I awoke, Linda was back and stroking me again, but there was blood in my mouth and a bandage on my leg. What sort of vet was this?
OK, it was only a little bit of blood.
That was yesterday. Today is better. My mouth doesn’t hurt anymore and I’ve even managed to eat a few biscuits.
Linda’s still going round with her hand over her jaw, though. She says she’s going back to Boots for some more painkillers, but I think the sooner she sees the people vet the better.
About the author
Rosemary has had short stories published in 'Friday Flash Fiction', 'Paragraph Planet', 'The Copperfield Review', 'Scribble', 'Mslexia' and 'Fiction on the Web'. Her novel, Wodka or Tea With Milk set around the Solidarity trade union in Poland will be published in February 2023. Rosemary lives with her husband in Essex.
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