Did someone say diet?

Did someone say diet?

Under the pretence of a weekday afternoon swim with my mate Bertie, I took up my usual spot, with window wide open, in the air conditioned back seat of my luxury french coupe. Straight through the roundabout at Albany Rd and stop. Not only is this not Bert’s house but that annoying husky in the front yard opposite would do very well to keep it’s little Icelandic mouth shut.

Suddenly my heart sinks, I stop dead in my tracks and throw Jules a look of sheer disgust – No Bertie, No Benson, No swim.

We are headed for those glass doors just beyond the roundabout, where the lesbians wear funny white uniforms and the foyer smells like a mixture of Death and Domestos – Inner West Veterinary Clinic.

Public Humiliation No. 1   A very public weighing and a loud tut, tut from the emaciated lesbian in the white uniform

Public Humiliation No. 2  Jules exclaims loudly that the last time she saw this particular vet, she had given my Great Aunt Dudelle the big green needle and laughing at my expense, hopes my fate isn’t the same.

Public Humiliation No. 3  A very cold thermometer is placed up my bum and a fever indicating a urinary tract infection is declared. At lease the big green needle does not appear.

Public Humiliation No. 4  A strict diet is revealed. 250gms AND NOTHING ELSE per day of dry kibble that smells like Vitamin B and 2 huge pink tablets that I spit out every time just to show my disgust…

Nothing else…..


Bertie and me



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