by Harbor Rungwarty
The vet’s waiting room was carpeted in a color that would hide poop and vomit stains easily. It clashed noticeably with my shoes, but I did not let this disturb me. Chim-cham, my faithful Senegalese, had been off his feed for nearly a week. I was getting very worried.
“He’s very handsome,” the woman sitting next to me said, nodding at Chim-cham. She was wearing odd white sandals and a flimsy sun dress, and was probably in her mid-thirties. A very fat gray cat sat on her lap purring.
“Thank you,” I said.
“What’s his name?”
“Chim-cham.”
“Oh how cute! He looks just like a Chim-cham.”
“And who is your lit—uh, your friend, there.”
“This,” she said, raising the huge ball of fur up so that it stood on its hind legs, “is Pablo Neruda. I named him after a famous poet. He’s my little poet, isn’t…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 