I tried to be nice to Nafob, in spite of the way he annoys me. (Note to Nafob: Don't try to be my friend!!! I have enough friends!!)
When we got to Tufts, wow! there was a television crew to film me! Cool! Or so I thought for about 5 seconds. And then it quickly turned into a Stanley Kubrick production. Seriously, I think they made me do 60 takes of just walking in the front door. And what's disturbing is that I nailed it on the first take. Whatever. I tried to call in for the editing session, but no one was answering at NECN. (Note to NECN: "Honk!" means put me through immediately! Not: "Put me on hold for 5 minutes and then disconnect me!")
Riddle me this: Why are all the techs and front-desk women at Tufts so cute? I'm in love with all of them, and, I admit it, I did flirt shamelessly. Sue me.
Dr. Candy was there. I love Dr. Candy. I did give her a little hiss when I first saw her, just to show her that I am not pleased that she is working somewhere else. But once I made that clear, I was on my best behavior. (Dr. Candy: I need your picture for my blog!!! 00F forgot to take our picture together! I am so angry with him!!!!)
Author/journalist Vicki Croke was also there. I think she was the one responsible for the whole media circus. And yes, I know, maybe I could have been a bit friendlier to her. But I don't want her to think that just because she writes about me for the Boston Globe (whatever that is) and features me in news segments, that I am going to eat dandelions out of her hand. What would she think of me?
Filming. Poking. Filming. More poking. Dr. Mayer held me on my back for my treatment. (Note to Dr. Mayer: Was that really necessary???) More filming. Look this way. Don't look at the camera. Being a celebrity is hard work.
On the way home, we stopped at Blooming Acres Farm. They let me in! No one ever lets me in their stores! (Why is that?) I was delighted. But I did notice a conspicuous lack of merchandise displayed at my level. Wait. I take that back. There was a very nice display of tick tweezers right where I could browse it. Extremely interesting, even though I could not figure out how to get the tweezers off the cardboard. I hope that was not an IQ test!!
3 comments:
Boswell,
The people that live with me alerted me to your visit to the doctor. Proceed with caution: These people are quacks. First off, I feel FINE, in fact I ALWAYS feel fine -- so why do I need to be "checked up"? They say they will make you feel better, but in my experience they only poke and prod you and I have NEVER felt better after my visit to Christine's. On top of that they trap me in a box and put me in one of those cars to take me to Christine's. Then they put me in that disgusting room full of tile and stainless steel (what good is "stainless" anything? -- how does Christine expect me to warn the others?). And even if I did feel sore, I still wouldn't trust them. Bolt, the wimpy one, told me that when his left foot was feeling sore, Dave Show took him to see Christine and she wrapped his foot in a cast against his will. He couldn't even clean his fur, and had to wear that thing FOR SIX WEEKS! Lot of good that did. All night long, all we heard on the hard wood floors was thump, thump, thump, and Bolt was NO FUN to attack any more. What good is that? I will say that sometimes Christine gets out the flea comb and she is much more efficient about finding those little nasties than Dave Show (or, for that matter, better than Chris Show). So maybe you should tell your doctors to get out the flea comb -- I think it would make your visits a little more enjoyable.
Boswell, you are the coolest! I heard all about you on NPR. Take care of your owner; he seems like a really cool guy.
Best wishes always,
Krafty_Momma
MR. BOSWELL....HAVE YOU SEEN LEMON'S BLOG? YOU NEEEEED to take a break from the geese on petfinder and update your blog man! love auntie laura
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