...Across from each other at the dinner table, the famous veterinarian, Dr. Stern, suddenly grimaced as he saw blood run down Mrs. Stern’s chin. “Isn’t this steak great,” she exclaimed while smiling broad, showing the chewed cow flesh in her mouth.
Dr. Stern’s hands ran to his face. The images came, they were back. He was a young boy back at his childhood farm. He saw a man with a fillet knife slowly carve away at a breathing standing cow. The cow stood proud and took it, barely snorting and stomping his legs. The cow killer carefully put lumps of cow flesh in packets with a plastic cover, and threw them on an escalator. The escalator dumped the dead cow flesh, as Mrs. Stern picked through the packets, discarding the unwanted ones.
He saw his wife waiting anxiously where the escalator ended and spun back around. The plastic covered cow flesh dropped at her feet. He saw chickens with their head cut off, running and laughing ---talking English! He saw cats killing kittens. It was faro. The pigs laughed and stopped with a pointing finger as he passed …He excused himself from the dinner table complaining of a headache.
That night he didn‘t sleep …
Most nights, lately, he didn’t sleep. He had lost thirty pounds in the last six months, and had developed a career ending physical ailment, which he concealed in his front pocket. His prominent hand, his right hand, now had a tremor. But the doctor was terrified, not to be called a doctor, and continued his practice like ‘normalcy’. He took his now regular belt of booze, whiskey, every morning and drove to work sometimes running over curbs.
Meanwhile …Pet Guy and Stanford were at Dr. Stern’s office anxiously awaiting Stanford’s results …
In the waiting room: The receptionist screamed, “Pet Guy and Stanford to see Dr. Stern!”
Stanford showed off his walk, subtlety swaying his shoulders. He paused, and slowly moved across the waiting room, like a stroll through Golden Gate Park? He avoided the other cat’s stares, and entered the Dr. Stern’s theater. He didn’t show a hint of fear. He jumped on the operating table like a solder waiting instructions. Dr. Stern opened the curtains and picked up Stanford.
His pretension was obvious. He didn’t care. Stanford’s face changed; he saw lies before they were delivered. Stanford started to squirm away from Dr. Stern’s grip. Dr. Stern had no choice but to release him, “What a beautiful cat.” The doctor said.
Stanford wasn’t taken in, and turned to the doctor. “You’ve been drinking!” He was on his hind legs searching for balance while waving his paw, “Drinking!”
“How are you doing that?” Dr. Stern said looking at Pet Guy.
“Do you see my mouth open and close? Stanford is talking and you better listen. Has the doctor been drinking Stanford?”
“You bet your ass Pet Guy, it smells expensive; eighteen year old scotch whiskey. I know all about you doctor. My senses are a little more acute than yours.”
Stanford curled his back. His muscles were taut and rippling. Dr. Stern started back peddling. An eye-lid closed and Stanford was air-borne, lunging at the doctor, with his claws fully extended. Soon …There were four claw marks across the doctor’s face with blood dripping, eventually to stick on Dr. Stern’s operating theater.
“Get your cat in order Pet Guy!” You could see his chest expand and collapse. He was in a panic.
“Not a chance doc --Stanford would never forgive me.” The doctor ran for the door. Pet Guy had to help Stanford, just a little, and locked the door. Dr. Stern took a swipe at Pet Guy. He adjusted his footing, WHISK; he was missed by three feet.
Stanford was on the operating table, again, curled for another attack. His eyes were the size of frigging marbles fixed on the Doctor. Now, his entire body ready, he leaped making another direct hit. The other side of Dr. Stern’s face had four claw marks dripping blood.
The doctor started clutching his chest. He was soaked with perspiration. He fell against the wall and slid down ---“Stop!’
Stanford went after the doctor in his vulnerable position, with a left than a right across Doctor Stern’s checks. Dr. Stern’s face now resembled the images he saw at the dinner table as he enjoyed steak with his wife.
“I think you should stop Stanford. I think you’re going to kill him.” Stanford leaped up on the operating table and broke out a smoke.
“Well doctor, do you want to die fast or should I take my time?” Stanford spoke while blowing smoke the doctor’s way.
“Please, please, hold-on a minute Stanford. I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry”
“Before you continue Doctor, could you wipe the blood off your face, you disgust me in so many different ways. Grab one of those napkins behind your head. Good.”
The doctor wiped his face and stared at the bloody napkin. Stanford was standing erect, “So Doctor, what about the human animal, would you indifferently kill them? Would you go about your business intoxicated and physically impaired? Perhaps ---You’re a murderer? Huh doctor?” Stanford was just there ---now three inches away from the doctor.
He screamed in his ear, “They’re all dead, all dead, they were murdered, they were killed, yes, yet no one thinks of themselves as a murderer. Who’s the murderer? No one steps forward and shouts, ‘I did it, how horribly cruel I was’. Nothing …done”
“Jesus Christ you’re right.” Dr. Stern took his hands away from his face and cried.
Stanford looked over at Pet Guy, “look at the little baby crumble. This is the best creature for creatures like me ---for our medical needs? What a disgrace! Help!!”
The End
