The Phantom Kitten

This week I took my male staff to a sighky  psichi  sykayatr  saichaiatr shrink. He's been having more than the usual problems with depression and anxiety lately so his regular quack told him to make an appointment with the shrink to review his medication. Well, goodness me, there must be an awful lot of other loonies out there because my male staff had to wait three weeks for an appointment. So anyway we sat there in the waiting room with all the other mad people and I was quite amazed to find that I was the only guinea pig there, although there was one person there who thought he was a Muscovy duck. Another thought he was a pair of curtains. I told him to pull himself together. Yet another poor fellow was convinced that he was a wigwam one minute and a marquee the next. I told him not to worry, he was just two tents. See, who needs to spend half their life at university just to be a shrink. Even a guinea pig can do it.

 At last the savage looking receptionist peered over her horn rimmed spectacles disapprovingly at my male staff and I and said. "Doctor Phlegm will see you now." I climbed up to my male staff's shoulder as he stood and was ushered into Doctor Phlegm's room. The receptionist said "You can't take that filthy animal in there." I sniffed at her and said "He's not filthy. I know for a fact he had a shower just a fortnight ago." She seemed not to hear and anyway by that time we were in the good Doctor's room. For someone who is used to dealing with lunatics I was surprised to see a shocked expression spread across his bearded features when he saw us. (Why do all shrinks seem to have beards? Even the female ones. Is it so that you can't see them laughing at you?) Then I realised that he thought my male staff had two heads (remember I was sitting on his shoulder). There was a handsome, beautifully groomed head with big white teeth, a perfectly formed nose and lovely soft brown eyes, and then there was the other head belonging to my male staff.

 "Errrrmm. Please sit down." said Doctor Phlegm, pointing to a very comfy looking chair in the corner of the small room. My male staff obeyed and moved me to his lap. "Do you take your kitten everywhere with you?" the Doctor asked. Kitten! I glared at him.
 "No." Said my male staff. I don't have a kitten."
 "I see," said the Doctor squinting suspiciously. I could see what he was thinking. "You don't have a kitten?"
 "Nope." Said my male staff. "Never had one."
 "So.........this kitten you've never had.............." He seemed unsure of what to say. "Do you ever feel that you sense the presence of a kitten?" I shuffled around on my male staff's lap to try and get a little more comfortable.
 "I'm really not sure what you mean." Answered my male staff.
 "Well, for example, do you ever feel something moving in your lap?"
My male staff stroked my fur. "Well......I suppose......I mean I don't really have any sexual dysfunction if that's what you mean." Except you never get any, I thought, but didn't say anything.
 Doctor Phlegm continued. "And.....errrm....do you ever hear meowing noises or purring?"
 "Not really." Replied my male staff. "Although my wife stomach sometimes sounds a bit like that when she's hungry. I really don't see what any of this has got to do with my depression though."
Doctor Phlegm crossed his legs and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Well," he said. "occasionally people with depression have bad concentration and poor memory."
 "There's nothing wrong with my memory Doctor Saliva." Said my male staff, a trifle sharply and I'm pretty sure I'd know if I had a kitten."
Doctor Phlegm snorted. "I'm not so sure," he said. "Sometimes the brain can become very disturbed at times of stress. Anyway, it's Phlegm."
 "What is?"
 "My name. It's Doctor Phlegm. You called me Doctor Saliva. You see. Your memory is playing tricks on you."
 "Don't be ridiculous, and I'm one hundred percent certain that I don't have a kitten." He stood up, once again transferring me to his shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll go back to my GP and ask him to refer me to someone else...........someone not so obsessed with phantom kittens. Good day to you sir" He said huffily. As we walked out I wished I could meow, but instead I just wheeked and deposited a healthy pile of bush chocolate on his carpet.

Anyway, the outcome of all this was that my male staff decided that he didn't need new, stronger medication after all. As he thought about it while we drove home he realised that he was not as insane as he'd first thought, and that there were many people out there much madder than him - Doctor Saliva for example.

BADGER'S FOOTNOTE
Can you believe it? Some people think I should visit an animal shrink because I might be obsessed with my feet. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? Now, where did I put my nail polish?