Friday, July 23, 2004
I have never been as scared as I was when I first knocked on Doc Wilson's door. I had called ahead to see if he was home and ask if he could look at a sick "pet". Monsa hand tried to bite me when I said "pet", but was so sick he missed and just fell flat.
Doc Wilson's wife Emmy ushered us in. I was holding a shoe box closely to my chest. I asked if Doc was there and she instructed us to go right on back into his study.
The study was something out of time. Old wood shelves and medical equipment decades old when I was born. In the center of the room was an examination table. It was smaller then most, being made for animals, and had raised sides.
"Well come in and let me have a look at your little pet" He took the box gently from me and sat it down. "Now what do you have? Hamster? Gerbil? Maybe one of those new ferrets that everyone seems to like."
He lifted the boxes lid and exposed a curled up Curious George doll and a box of chocolate.
"What...?" He turned to me and I raised my cupped hands in front of me, holding monsa hand in them.
You see I carry the little guy in my pocket most of the time. The box idea did not go over well with him, so I put his stuff in it.
Monsa was curled up in my hand and laid there limply. He raised his head and looked at doc.
"Hi... "Acchhooooo!! His head fell back into my hand.
"Doc I need to explain what this is it is..." I started on some lines I had prepared to introduce monsa hand to doc without scaring the crud out of him.
"You got a little walker there." He reached over and with practiced hands went right to the back of monsa's head and expertly started to scritch him.
Well I and my wife started to talk over each other at the "walker" comment.
"What?" "Where?" and "When?" were jumbles in many other questions that pored from us.
Ignoring us like parents he turned his concentration over to monsa and picked him up and carried him to the table.
With an order to sit quietly we did, and although our heads were full of questions we obeyed.
Monsa hand then became the center of Doc's world. He pulled out a small tray of very small instruments and gave him a full going over.
We sat there as Doc's muttering of "temp ok." and "little chubby" was all we learned for the next few minutes.
Doc then pulled out a miniature chocolate bar and laid it down in front of monsa and told him to nibble on that for awhile.
"I know what's wrong with the little guy. Not rare for them in reality. Seen it several times. "
"What!" I really needed to know what was wrong.
"Have you all gotten any new plants lately?"
We looked at each other and then realized about the same time what he was talking about. I had just turned back to him to answer when he piped in.
"One of you brought a rhododendron into the house right? Those things are like poison to walkers. Need to throw it out and really air out the house for a few days"
I had never felt that good before. A plant. I can get rid of plants. Monsa hand would be better and things could go back to being normal, or at least as far as that was possible with an adopted monster.
"Do you all know much about walkers?" He looked at us with a little concern.
"No. We have had to learn as things developed. It does get a little rough once in awhile."
"Well stay for dinner and me and the misses will tell you what we know about them.
He called out to his wife that we were staying for dinner and that she needed to "make something with chocolate also. They brought a walker."
We were not alone anymore.
Doc Wilson's wife Emmy ushered us in. I was holding a shoe box closely to my chest. I asked if Doc was there and she instructed us to go right on back into his study.
The study was something out of time. Old wood shelves and medical equipment decades old when I was born. In the center of the room was an examination table. It was smaller then most, being made for animals, and had raised sides.
"Well come in and let me have a look at your little pet" He took the box gently from me and sat it down. "Now what do you have? Hamster? Gerbil? Maybe one of those new ferrets that everyone seems to like."
He lifted the boxes lid and exposed a curled up Curious George doll and a box of chocolate.
"What...?" He turned to me and I raised my cupped hands in front of me, holding monsa hand in them.
You see I carry the little guy in my pocket most of the time. The box idea did not go over well with him, so I put his stuff in it.
Monsa was curled up in my hand and laid there limply. He raised his head and looked at doc.
"Hi... "Acchhooooo!! His head fell back into my hand.
"Doc I need to explain what this is it is..." I started on some lines I had prepared to introduce monsa hand to doc without scaring the crud out of him.
"You got a little walker there." He reached over and with practiced hands went right to the back of monsa's head and expertly started to scritch him.
Well I and my wife started to talk over each other at the "walker" comment.
"What?" "Where?" and "When?" were jumbles in many other questions that pored from us.
Ignoring us like parents he turned his concentration over to monsa and picked him up and carried him to the table.
With an order to sit quietly we did, and although our heads were full of questions we obeyed.
Monsa hand then became the center of Doc's world. He pulled out a small tray of very small instruments and gave him a full going over.
We sat there as Doc's muttering of "temp ok." and "little chubby" was all we learned for the next few minutes.
Doc then pulled out a miniature chocolate bar and laid it down in front of monsa and told him to nibble on that for awhile.
"I know what's wrong with the little guy. Not rare for them in reality. Seen it several times. "
"What!" I really needed to know what was wrong.
"Have you all gotten any new plants lately?"
We looked at each other and then realized about the same time what he was talking about. I had just turned back to him to answer when he piped in.
"One of you brought a rhododendron into the house right? Those things are like poison to walkers. Need to throw it out and really air out the house for a few days"
I had never felt that good before. A plant. I can get rid of plants. Monsa hand would be better and things could go back to being normal, or at least as far as that was possible with an adopted monster.
"Do you all know much about walkers?" He looked at us with a little concern.
"No. We have had to learn as things developed. It does get a little rough once in awhile."
"Well stay for dinner and me and the misses will tell you what we know about them.
He called out to his wife that we were staying for dinner and that she needed to "make something with chocolate also. They brought a walker."
We were not alone anymore.
