“There are a few great migrations in Africa.”
Kallie surveyed his audience, and when he was sure he had our attention he continued.
“The Wildebeests of Serengeti, the Sardine run of the South Coast and of course the annual trek of Vrystaaters to the Zululand coast for the Easter Billfish Fishing Competition.”
The formalities had been concluded at this practice function and the staff settled back in anticipation of an interesting story.
“The other annual Easter event was our Good Friday SPCA Mutt Show.” he continued.
“I was in Practice in Zululand at the time and was always called upon to judge the local Best Dressed Dog and the Owner/Pet look-alike categories. The usual suspects were entered; the prop from the Rugby Club with his Staffie, a couple of Bulldogs presented by jowly English expats, farmers in khakis with their Boerbuls, and of course several purple-rinse ladies with Maltese’s fresh from the parlour.”
“My first client that following Saturday was one of the Vrystaat migrants. Mev. Miems van Schalkwyk was bringing Tiekkie in for his annual vaccinations. While she was entering her details on our computer, my mind drifted back to yesterday’s competition. In dog/owner look-alikes the exception proves the rule. Weighing in at an impressive 3 kilograms, Tiekkie was a Miniature Pinscher and Miems was an enormous lady, the kind of woman that keeps the Grey College production line well stocked with rugby forwards”
““Ons trou nie met Barbie Dolls nie!” a Boer had confided once when I asked how it was that their kids were so large.”
Kallie now had a twinkle in his eye. He paused, sucked on his beverage, and continued.
“Tiekkie was a candidate for a double dose of Ritalin – a blur of testicles and teeth. Some of the time he was under the table, then behind the fridge. He peed on the dog food display before trying to disembowel the practice cat. Pound for pound, he was more vicious than lions or tigers or great white sharks. He was all over the place even when Mev Van S. eventually got him onto the table. Part of the problem was that she could not hold him firmly enough without running the risk of crushing him so he avoided every attempt I made to inject him. He finally ended up perched on her shoulder, which by now was beaded in sweat, as was the rest of her over exposed torso. And, as she lifted her arm to grab him he dived head first down into the crevasse that was Mev van Schalkwyk’s abundant, very impressive cleavage. Unperturbed, the redoubtable lady crossed her arms and clamped Tiekkie between the fleshy mounds.”
““Spuit maar, Dokterrr! Ek het hom!” she brayed triumphantly.”
Kallie had our attention now. Even those whose bladders were protesting after an over indulgence of cool drinks were reluctant to leave their seats.
“But Tiekkie wasn’t done yet,” he continued.
“As I approached, he dug in deeper until all that was exposed was one leg and a pair of oversized nuts. I don’t know what he was doing with his teeth in that deep, dark recess but I was very thankful that I was only presented with his blunt end”
“Now, when injecting, one hand has to stabilize the target while the other operates the syringe.”
Kallie was now out of his seat, using his hands to indicate his vaccinating technique.
“I admit, I prayed a silent prayer that Mnr. Van Schalkwyk didn’t walk through the door just then, as my left hand attempted to secure the patient. I realise that the Mnr. was unlikely to be a skinny little dwarf and that I would have been in significant trouble if he had appeared!”
Kallie sat down again.
“In the end, sweating profusely and giggling a bit sheepishly, I inserted the needle. Mev. did not squeal so I guess I managed to inject the dog! ”
And, fortunately, the fishing was that good that the Mnr. was nowhere to be seen.