The Black Cat and the Guinea PigA Story by SweetNutmegThis little snippet came from a writing exercise.*** The lead character finds the
love interest in a compromising situation!
A collaborative project with a
quirky veterinarian leads to something more.
It's revealed that a major
character is pregnant! “Hello?” I knocked on the glass more loudly, hoping
someone within would hear me. Damn, no receptionist. Fred was languishing apace
in his cage. I could buy a new guinea pig if this one died, but how to get
matching spots? How do you explain death to a classroom of five year olds? Tired of knocking and waiting, I tried the door to the inner
examination rooms. I smelled dog faintly, but mainly that sterile smell you get
in hospitals. But I could hear the dogs. Fred cowered deeper into his wood
chips. “Hello?” I called again. A shape shot past my feet, a
black blur, and it was followed by an out of breath man in a lab coat. He
dashed straight at me. I put up Fred’s cage to ward off a collision, but he
managed to hook around me into the nearest exam room and slam the door behind
him. What on earth? I
heard knocking sounds, combined oddly with cooing. The banging stopped, which
made the cooing sound louder. The man emerged with a black cat wrapped in what
would be a straight jacket on a human, but probably had some euphemistic term
in the veterinarian world. The man was a good looking man now that I saw him
standing still rather than running about. His face was flushed from his
athletic exertions, but I thought his face would be rosy in any circumstance.
He was that kind of blonde. A curly strawberry blonde, in fact. His blue eyes
looked like nothing I had seen before in real life, like the depths of an ice
cavern in the Antarctic, or the blue of some exotic fish in a coral reef. Our
eyes met and then we both looked away. It was a glance that ambushed me with a
crackling sexual energy I had not felt in a long, long time. The black cat started purring loudly. I gladly looked
down on it, to distract myself from the feelings bubbling to the surface.
Transferring the cat to the crook of his left arm, the man offered his hand. “Dr. Givings.” I took his hand hesitantly and felt the jolt of
attraction again. “I’m Clara Mindler. I called about the guinea pig?” “Yes, yes, of course. I’m so sorry there was no one to
greet you. Our receptionist came down with the flu. Let me put this fellow back
in his enclosure and I’ll be right with you. You can go in room four.” I placed Fred’s cage on the examining table and took a
seat. There was a detailed medical illustration of the flea life cycle that I looked away from
quickly. In a moment Dr. Givings was back, looking less tousled
and harassed. “Let’s see, what have we got here? What are the symptoms? “Well, Fred hasn’t been eating all we give him any more
and hasn’t been on the exercise wheel in the last day or so. He seems to be
pining, in general.” Dr. Givings gently removed Fred from his cage and placed
him on the table, then began palpating him. “Well, Ms. Mindler, I think Fred needs a new name, as he
is pregnant.” © 2015 SweetNutmegAuthor's Note
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21 Reviews Added on January 26, 2015 Last Updated on January 26, 2015 AuthorSweetNutmegAboutI'm on hiatus and returning no reviews. I am sorry to say I don't do poetry. At all. As in, never. Not even for you. more..Writing
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