I got new-moan-ya. I think moaning is kinda stupid when you’re sick. I’m saving my energy to just breathe. I wouldn't write today, but when Mom turned on Monster to clean the carpets, it woke me up.
On Thursday, she took me to my doctor who squeezed around my tummy, and it really hurt. She sent Mom home with awful tasting food. Then Saturday, cuz I was shaking, Dad and Mom decided I needed to see another doctor.
Scared they were taking me to Snookie’s vet at Dr. Jackle and Ms. Pighyde’s place, I got the super shakes. But then I remembered they don’t work on Saturdays. Ms. Pighyde’s phone message says if the critter’s still alive on Monday, call them back after 10 AM.
Like always, first thing on Saturday, they pulled my tail up and stuck a stick in me. Then they stuck a needle in me and took a whole lot of my blood—so much, that when they took pictures of my insides, you could only see gray and white—not one bit of red or pink. The gray stuff in my lungs is why I’m sick.
This doctor said I don’t have to eat that yucky food. I can eat anything, and as much as I want so long as it isn't salty. I liked her (Dr. Christy Webb) a lot—well, at least until Dad tried to make me eat the pills she sent home with us. They’re the worse thing I've ever had in my mouth.
Humans think they know so much. I know something tasting that bad could never make me feel better. Mom got special tuna strips to wrap around the pills. When I spit a pill out, she ground it up and mixed it in the tuna. She quit trying to make me swallow it when I started shaking and breathing hard. By this time I had spit tuna stuff all over her shirt. Then Mom had to take a pill, cuz her legs hurt from crawling under the table after me, and picking me up a bunch of times.
Like I said, I gotta save my energy. I’m gonna get comfy right here in the office chair, and sleep until I’m hungry.
© 2013, Bernice W. Simpson