9
Lamb Cutlets
The vet wiped the anal thermometer across the brown sleeve of his old tweed jacket, plucked the antique stethoscope from his ears and sniffed loudly. "He's in tip-top condition for a three-month old lamb. I don't think we've anything to worry about at all."
"You might not have," Joachim said, "and I might not have but he has..." He paused, sniffed, then continued: "...he's seven years old."
The vet sniffed.
Joachim sniffed again.
The lamb, attempting nonchalance, tried to perform the Devil's Tattoo with its right fore-foot.
"And he's developed this curious twitching of the right fore-foot," said Joachim, sniffing.
"Hmm!" sniffed the vet.
"Te-tum-ti-tum-ti-tum..." the lamb tried in its continuing attempt to appear as though nothing in the world were amiss.
"And his bleat's gone all to pot, lately."
The vet sniffed.
Joachim sniffed.
The lamb sniffed.
"I think he's caught a cold," said Joachim.
The vet sniffed. "Can't be that," he said. "There's nothing physically wrong with him."
"For a three-month old..."
"Yes. Are you sure he's seven?"
Joachim ran his hand down his long, grey straggly beard: "Yes."
The vet sniffed.
The lamb sniffed again.
"The age problem's certainly got me stumped," admitted the vet, "but, apart from that, he does seem perfectly healthy."
"Then, what's causing the smell?" Joachim asked, finally giving up in his attempt to keep the worry from his voice.
"What?" said the vet.
"The smell," Joachim repeated, sniffing loudly to emphasise his meaning. "What's causing that?"
The vet sniffed. "Oh, that smell," he said. "That's probably the lamb cutlets my wife's doing for lunch."
"Oh, Sin of God that takes away the Lambs of the World!" intoned the lamb.
They all sniffed.
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This is one of the Tales of Joachim |
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Ink Amera |
(C) David 1/9/2007 |
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