Brockit an the Vet
by: Wheeler, Les
It wis a bricht bonnie mornin ootside, but in the ferm hoose aathing jist wisna as it should be.
Brockit woke up an he didna feel at aa weel. His held wis sair an sae wis aathing else - even his claws felt sair! The wee cat jist wisna weel an he felt like he’d been rummled aboot in a tattie skull aa nicht.
He tried to gie a miaow for help, but hardly ony soond cam oot. He tried gettin oot o his bed, but his legs were that weak that he wobbled an shoogled aa ower the place an his legs could hardly hud him up an he nearly coupit ower. Brockit felt worse than he did the time he ate aa the orra berries up at the standin steens.
Fan the ferm-wife cam doon at half-past six tae mak the brakfest it wis a gey peer cratur that lookit up an hardly managed tae gie a miaow for help.
‘Ye’d better phone Mr. Taylor,’ said the ferm-wife tae the fermer, ‘he’ll ken fit’s the maitter wi the wee cat an he’ll ken fit tae dae aboot it!’
Mr. Taylor wis the Vet an lookit efter aa the ither beasts on the ferm, sae the fermer got on tae him stracht awa. It wisna lang afore the vet arrived an he was affa sorry tae hear that Brockit was nae weel.
The Vet had treated Brockit afore an gaed him injections to see that he widna catch onything ower bad. Forbye that, he’d affen met in wi Brockit fin he’d come tae the ferm tae look at the ither beasts. Sae Brockit an the Vet were aul freens.
The Vet had a gweed look at Brockit an he gently pokit an prodded aa ower his wee body. Syne he put his haun on his chin, noddit his heid twa or three times, said, ‘Humph!’ an then opened his big black case.
Oot o the Vet’s case cam some peels an the Vet gave een tae Brockit. Syne he made Brockit open his moo and some medicine wis gaen tae the wee cat. Finally, Brockit got an injection - it’s aye as weel tae be safe!
Noo, Brockit had hin aa o they things afore - peels, medicines, pooders an injections - an he’d nivver likit ony o them. But, this time, Brockit wis nae weel. He’d hae tholed onything that wis gyan tae mak him better!
The Vet smiled at the ferm-wife, gaed the money in his pocket a bit rattle an said, ‘I dinna think it’s ower serious. I’ll leave ye some peels an gie them tae him fower times a day. By the end o the wik he’ll be as richt as rain eence mair.’
Aff went Mr. Taylor in his car an Brockit was made comfortable in his bed by the fire, wi a wee coggie o warm milk next tae him jist in case he needed a drink.
Jist as the Vet had said, in twa-three days Brockit wis as fit as ivver an ye’d nivver hae kent that he’d been nae weel.
‘Peels, medicines an injections are nae affen affa gweed tae get,’ thocht Brockit, ‘but it’s jist as weel that we’ve got some chiels like Mr. Taylor tae gie us them or we micht nivver feel weel again!’