Bat Segundo and the Poodle of Doom
You know it is going to be a bad day when you find yourself waiting in the veterinary surgery, next to Bat Segundo. I mean, veterinary waiting rooms are not the most relaxing places to start with. But there's Bat with his parrot, and me with my terrapin, and on the other side of me this tiny little will of the wisp grandmother with the most enormous cat that ever wasn't diagnosed as a Puma.
Still, I thought, perhaps this wasn't so bad. Keep myself to myself, and nobody gets hurt.
Then Bat's parrot started talking. I'll leave the worst to your imagination.
"Your mother wears Army boots,"it screeched at its most polite.
The promenading poodles in the hallway went berserk, getting their leads in a muddle and their owners in a snark. The mega-cat leapt off the old lady, who hobbled off in pursuit, alternately calling "Galleycat, come back,"and "Oh, my poor bunion!”
The place was a circus, complete with the roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd - the whole nightmare.
Poodles, cats, birds, a couple of guinea pigs, some guy's python - everything was running loose. Everything except the fish in the tank a kid was holding, and my own tortoise. I couldn't let my darling get run over, so I plunked her in the fish tank.
I grabbed a passing poodle leash, and tied it to a chair. I threw a jacket over the razor claws of the cat, rolled it up and returned it to its owner. The guinea pigs were easy - I pulled the potted plant away from the wall, they ran into the dark space behind it, and there they hid. Two more poodles and a snake later, there was only the trouble-making parrot left on the loose.
The parrot was perched up above the window. Bat Segundo was looking more helpless than I could have imagined. I looked around the room, but there wasn't a chair to climb on that didn't have a poodle attached. I needed some height, and I needed it before the parrot went out the window.
I fixed BS with a steely glare.
"Drop everything and give me ten... books,"I ordered.
He did, in record time. I piled the books up, good fat hardcover veterinary texts they were. Fortunately.
So there I was, thinking myself a hero, and waiting for the thanks to come flooding in. And then I saw what I'd failed to see during the commotion.
My terrapin had eaten the kid's fish. The kid had thrown the terrapin onto a chair. The terrapin had crawled onto the poodle tied to that chair and, in a state of fear, made a nasty mess on the poodle's rather stylish outfit. The poodle looked extremely displeased... and his leash had worked loose.
The poodle was wearing a pink tam.
There is only one.
I grabbed my tortoise and ran, with Killer Yap in elegant yet vengeful pursuit.
Oh dear dog, the idea of terrapin poo on KY's elegant 'do ....
Miss Snark shields the screen from KY's inquiring eyes!
Scoring to come!