Dr. Dobby

“Mom! Mom! MOOOOM! You are supposed to be typing Mom.”

“Yes, Dobby. I'm here. What should I be typing?” Dobby runs over to the chair to be petted. Mom pets him, he leaves. Mom muttering: Why don't you write this one? I don't know what to say tonight.

Dobby runs back into the den and gets in Mom's face. “What?! What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Mom answers.

Dobby runs out of the den for the first aid kit and the big red flashlight. “Oh no this is not good at all.” Dobby rolls the big red flashlight on to its side. “Mom now get up out of the chair and lay down in the floor. Mom come on I really need you to do this.”

Mom looks at Dobby with suspicion. Dobby makes that sweet kitty face. “Please...?!”

Mom gets up out of the chair and lays down on the den floor.

“Okay Mom. Angle your head so the light shines in your mouth. Open your mouth first. Just so you know.”

Mom positions herself on the floor next to the flashlight and starts to open her mouth. Glaring at Dobby she closes her mouth, then she says, “There is no other reason for the flashlight to be on near my mouth unless you want me to open my mouth. Just so you know.” Mom counters in a snippy manner.

“Cranky too.” Dobby curls his tail around a pencil and writes on Mom's pad that is laying within reach on the floor.

Seeing what Dobby is doing Mom says, “Don't write anywhere there is already writing. Those are story notes.”

Donning his “I'm seriously intelligent” glasses Dobby peers into Mom's mouth. “Say ah.”

“Ahh...” Mom answers.

“Ah. Don't worry I took that page off already.” Dobby gestures towards the far corner of the den with his head.

“Ahhhhhh....” Mom starts to turn towards his gaze to verify her notes are safe.

Dobby gently guides her face back to his with his paw.

Mom makes the “Ah” noise louder.

“You can close your mouth now Mom.” Dobby gently brushes his paw over her nose as he backs away from her face.

After Mom sits up, Dobby starts pacing back and forth in front of her. “You said, you don't know what to write. Which made me concerned for your health Mom. You are always talking. To me, to yourself, to the monitor. You have a lot to say. When you feel like you have nothing to say something is clearly wrong. Your nose is not hot but it is...DRY. I think it is a sign that you are not well. Then I looked in your mouth and it doesn't look like you've eaten a spider, flower, dental floss or anything else that would make you sick. That's the bad news. I have no idea what's wrong. If I don't know what's wrong, clearly I cannot cure you. You may be sick—forever.

Mom looks at Dobby and pretends to be “strong” after hearing his “distressing” news. “Really?” Mom asks.

“Yes. I'm so sorry.”

“I'll be strong kitty. For you.” Mom gets up and sits down at the computer.

“Was that so hard?” Mom smiles big.

“You're okay?”

“I'm okay.” Mom answers.

“It was about time you helped with this blog that's making you---Famous.”