Hello This is HarveyCat. My human girl Lona has been suffering from rider’s block lately. I am too regally confident and self -assured to casually admit that I don’t know what that is, but I think that it must involve some combination of dark chocolate and episodes of The Good Place. Anyway, it also seems to involve some place she goes everyday that she calls either clinic or work. She has been spending inordinate time there lately, coming home bleary eyed, gazing into the refrigerator as if it held the answers to life’s questions. She will sit for a short time mumbling something about there being way too much in flew Enza, before she shackles the Alaskan Maladroit to the leash (I swear, dogs are so needy), and then tromps out the door with Thrash Unreal leaking out her ear buds without even a bow or other form of prostration to me, myself, the royal highness. This has been going on way too long.
But I knew she would get around to me eventually. This finally occurred the other day when she met me in the Antigravity room where I had been waiting under the dragonflies. She plopped a bunch of papers down and told me that her transcriptionist was running behind, and that she needed me to help (apparently I am now Bodyguard, Conscience, Accountant, Editor, Therapist, Supreme Ruler of all I survey, and if that were not enough, I am now also a transcriptionist). I told her I really need to simplify my life, just get back to simple avian and red dot surveillance, you know get back to basics, because it wasn’t like I was so fawning that I would let her put a leash on me and lead me around for hours like a… well I just said it… like a dog or something, and what was I getting for all this hard work that is really interfering with my ability to keep tabs on the birds and well, what if that dot came back, and I did not really have time to spend with her stupid words anyway. At this point she smiled at me, you know how she gets when she says she is sparkly dark, (goodness knows what that really means?) and just smiled and let out one of those insufferable “Ahhh” (ew gross), and then said that she thought I was actually jealous which is ridiculous because how could I even ever be jealous of some big harry oaf that couldn’t even stay in one place while she craps and flings some amalgam of water and slobber around for five feet after galoshing her water with all the dainty discretion of a (thank goodness I don’t yet know of any) Jack Black and Will Ferrell collaboration, and well. I could and did intend to go on and on. But she just kept scratching my head until my eyes did that thing that I never mean for them to do when I am peeved where they narrow to a little slit as my head curls up firmly into her hand. I really tried to stop it from happening but I just couldn’t, and that made me madder than ever, and then with what was even more appalling, I actually started purring.
Well, she might think that I am not angry at her for spending so much time walking that stupid dog instead of just basking in my regal and arrogant self-assured aloofness because I did agree to at least go over the transcriptions. She doesn’t know this yet, but I found a few really choice typographical errors (quaintly called typos by Lona) from her actual clinic transcriptions. It is her own fault really, everyone expects doctors to have bad handwriting, but must they also speak so fast and mumbly when they are dictating? Goodness sometimes I think that all they really teach them in medical school is how to keep the truth that they really did not decide anything couched in a veil of garbled imprecisions. Well, I’m NOT going to tell her about these typos, and I will eat anyone else who tells her (as long as they are smaller than me or have not moved for three days). For the sake of consistency, order, and overall feline arrogant cussedness I have organized the typographical errors into specific CATegories. I have given what it was that she thought she said followed by the typo. Mwa-ha-ha-ha and all that. Okay here goes.
1. The And-you-thought-you-were-excercising-enough CATegory:
Intent: The patient is pretty active for being 93 years old in that he walks 4 to 6 miles a day.
Typo: The patient is pretty active for being 93 years old in that he walks 46 miles a day.
2. The Deepwater-horizon-tastes-worse-the-second-time CATegory
Intent: The patient suffers from gastroesophageal reflux.
Typo: The patient suffers from gas offshore reflux.
3. The Generous-to-a-fault CATegory.
Intent: In regards to her sexual history the patient reports that she is monogamous.
Typo: In regards to her sexual history the patient reports that she is magnanimous.
4. The I-should-have-never-signed-that-power-of-attorney CATegory.
Intent: The patient’s children are seeking for several long-term care options.
Typo: The patient’s children are seeking for severe long-term care options.
5. The C’mon-doc-you-did-what?! CATegory.
Intent: He is recovering from his below-the-knee amputation.
Typo: He is recovering from his bologna amputation.
6. The Children-from-CATegory-4-get-their-come-uppance CATegory
Intent: The family is suffering from psychological trauma.
Typo: The family is suffering from psychic karma.
7. The Hey-I-guess-it-might-not-hurt-to-try CATegory.
Intent: Because of difficulty in categorizing her symptoms, the patient is being referred to neurology.
Typo: Because of difficulty in categorizing her symptoms, the patient is being referred to numerology.
8. The Hey-I-guess-it-might-hurt-to-try CATegory
Intent: His cardiologist wanted to have him take digoxin.
Typo: His cardiologist wanted to have him take dioxin
The last CATegory is made up by Lona, but she wishes it were real. She says it is from Taoism and not from clinic.
9. The I-guess-Lao-Tzu-also-had-teenagers CATegory.
Intent: The truth lies in the space between the lines.
Typo: The truth lies in the space between the whines.
Lights,, Curtain, Applause, Bows, Catnip, Tuna. Your Welcome.
All right reserved for text to HarveyCat January 2018. You can re-blog, but I will eat you if you do not give attribution.