These days, the veterinarian has us come to the office, call them, they come scurrying out and grab the cats, and then we sit and wait while they do the necessaries.
While sitting, one of those big Yukon trucks motored in. Speculation began with them bringing in their pet elephant, but eventually we worked our way down to … their pet fly.
Arts Editor: Oh, doctor, doctor, my fly’s wing has an owie!
Me: Hmmm, yes, yes, I see it. A little tear. Nurse John, hand me that … stapler.
Arts Editor: Augh!
Me: Never worry, ma’am. (Raises hands, slams stapler.) And there we go, good as new …
Arts Editor: He appears woozy!
Me: Oh, that’s just the PTSD. For a fly, that lasts about five minutes.
