[this is satire] by Rocky the Diabolical Cat™
Having sealed a deal with my publisher Edizione Testa d’Uovo to finance my stay in Rome while I finish my new book Feline, All Too Feline, I made an appointment for a check-up with my personal physician, Dr. Juan Pagan.
After we exchanged pleasantries, the exam began in earnest. He looked in my ears, shone a light in my eyes, had me follow the movements of a pencil with my eyes, checked my reflexes with a small rubber mallet and had me run circles around the exam room a few times while he timed me with a stopwatch.
Then the moment of truth arrived: “Rocky,” he said, “I need to take your temperature.” Indeed! My temperature!
My readers will recall the infamous thermometer-incident, a moment of unspeakable indignity, in which my dear doctor-friend put a thermometer where the sun don’t shine, as they say. “I don’t think so, bub,” I said resolutely. “No temperature.”
“Rocky,” he replied, “I bought this special ear thermometer just for you. See?”
He showed me a device I had never seen before. “That will be fine, dear fellow,” I said, “but don’t try any funny business.”
After he took my temperature I held out my arm so he could draw blood.
“Look at that big vein!” he cried.
“Yes, Juan, it is one of the few perfections of my corporeal existence — that big vein in my right arm.”
Next he produced a tongue suppressor. “Open and say ‘ah,’” said the good doctor.
“Ahhhhhhh,” I said.
He looked in my mouth for quite a while. Then he said with concern, “Rocky, you seem to have some abnormalities in your mouth. Can I take tissue samples and send them to the lab for a biopsy?”
“Why certainly, dear fellow,” I said in good cheer. I opened my mouth, the good doctor applied a bit of numbing solution and soon all was over.
“My dear Juan, I bid thee adieu!” I said as J and I departed.
“Adieu, Rocky!” the eminent practitioner said.
As we drove home in the truck, reality crashed in on me. Biopsy! Who knows what the future might hold for me! We drove past a White Castle.
“Hey hey hey!” I cried. “You cannot deprive me of my White Castles, especially after a trip to the doctor.”
J circled the block and we entered the drive-thru. I leaned out the driver's window and said, "Six 'Castles,' and hold the onions as usual!"
"You got it, Rock!" came the tinny reply from the loudspeaker.