A Vet’s Nightmare
“Hello. Welsh Hill’s Vetinarian practise.”
“Yes, hello. Do you look after all animals?”
“Oh yes, all creatures great and small, we do them all.”
“Excellent. Can I get an appointment, please?”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“He’s gone off his food.”
“Can you come over at 3?”
“Great,” said Susan. “Do you have a helipad there?”
“A Helipad, or a flat roof?”
“Ah.. yes, we have a flat roof,” said the receptionist. “Why?”
“Okay we’ll drop in about 3pm.”
Susan guiding her pet down onto the flat roof and then climbed down to the front entrance.
“Hello. I’m Susan. I have an appointment for my pet.”
“Oh yes,” said the receptionist. “What’s his name please?”
“And what is he?”
“A dragon of course, although he’s a little backward.”
“And where is this dragon,” said the receptionist, trying to humour her.
“He’s waiting outside a bit big for your doors.”
The receptionist looked out to see that indeed there was a dragon waiting patiently, out in the car park, taking up a large disabled bay.
“Oh yyyyyes,” she stuttered. “I’ll get the vet to come out.”
The vet appeared form his room stethoscope around his neck.
“Hello, Dr Little,” said the vet, holding out his hand.
“Susan, Nice to meet you Dr Little.”
“Call me Doo please,” said the vet.
“Short for Donald, or maybe because I’m always up to my eyeballs in it.”
“So, where’s this ‘dragon’ then.”
“Is he trained. I don’t want him biting my head off.
“Oh yes,” said Susan. “That’s his favourite film, always watching it.”
“What’s his problem?”
“He’s lost his spark and off his food.”
“When did this start.”
“After he was asked to light up the Christmas tree.”
“Well, whoever thought that was a good idea should be fired.”
“Certainly, the mayor was a little singed,” said Susan. “But the biggest problem is that ever since the Christmas event, the trolls have been coming out of the bridgework with a vengeance.”
“He’s not going to burn me, if I get too close?”
“No, that’s probably the main reason he can’t eat, he’s can’t breathe fire anymore.”
“Oh, that is serious,” said the relieved vet.
“Yes, he likes his food crispy on the outside,” said Susan. “I’ve installed a chiminea in the garden but he says it’s not the same.”
“No, there’s nothing like a bit of crackling,” said Doo. “Now Nogard, let me have a look. Open wide.”
Nogard opened his cavernous mouth to let the vet look inside. “Say aaaah.”
From the depths of Nograd’s chest, came a deep roar and a huge puff of smoke, enveloping the vet, who fell over coughing, like a long-term smoker.
Susan rushed over to pick up Doo. “Are you OK?”
“Yes, don’t get many dragons in here, I will have to adjust my patter a bit.”
“That’s another problem, he’s been accused of polluting the atmosphere with his fumes.”
“Coal fired, is he?”
“Yes, well nuclear may be cleaner but maybe not safer, for Nogard at least.”
“Have you tried Diesel?”
“Yes, but here’s a bit of a problem finding the right filters ever since the VowWow problem.”
“Of course,” said the vet. “Maybe you can use charcoal.”
“So, if we get the fuel right, we still need to light the fumes.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let me try my Zipper lighter,” said the vet, taking one out of his pocket.
Standing well out of the way, he tickled Nogard’s chin, “Say aaahh.” A flip with the lighter and a loud whoosh as flames shot from his mouth, turned a flame red Mini into, well flame red Mini.
“Well that worked thanks,” said Susan, ignoring the sound of fire engines in the distance. “But I can’t always be around with a lighter when he needs it.”
Let’s see if he can use it.
Susan put the lighter into his claw. Nogard blew out some fumes but was too late with the lighter to set them off. Which was just as well as the firemen had arrived to put out the flames on the Mini.
“His claw eye coordination was never his strong suit.”
I have a better idea,” said the vet. “Wait here.”
Strange noises emanated from the inside the surgery, lots of clinking and clanking until Doo emerged with some superglue and a selection of bits and pieces.
“Will he be calm if I climb on his back?”
“Hopefully,” said Susan.
Doo climbed up onto the dragon’ back and superglued a solar panel on his back. “Even more environmental.” He trailed wires into his mouth and superglued the spark switch, salvaged from his gas oven, between his teeth. “Now even more sparkling, no need for whitening toothpaste.”
The vet climbed down and warned the firemen to keep out of the way. “Say aaaah Nogard.”
A gargled aaaah came from the dragon and fumes spread across the car park, click your teeth Nogard he called.
A click, a flash and the fat little pig, on its way to market, was turned into a crispy meal, which Nogard shared with all the staff and the firemen.
A few days later the vet called Susan. “So, how’s the patient.”
“Oh getting on like a house of fire,” she replied. “He’s also got a job at the local, flame grilled steak house.”