At The Coffee Shop

My regular readers will know that my male staff pretends to work from home. Every morning after feeding Boris, Baci, Paolo the Budgie, my female staff and I he sits down in front of his computer and gazes with feigned concentration at his emails and his reverse people smuggling reservation system, in the hope that he will fool my female staff into thinking that he is actually doing something productive.  It seems to work because every morning she goes of to work in order to keep us all in food and bedding with a cheery "Bye darling.  See you tonight."  Then as soon as he hears her car drive away he switches from his work websites to Twitter and spends all day dealing with my correspondence. 

Anyway, because my male staff is at home more than my female staff the burden has fallen upon him to ferry her mum around since she started having angina attacks.  She's had this problem for a while, but in the last couple of weeks it has become more severe, which means she has been forbidden to drive by my staff in case she has a bad attack, swerves off the road and destroys their favourite coffee shop.  Hopefully this is just a temporary measure until she gets the angina stabilised.  She'll be going to see her heart specialist this week - Doctor Wong, or as my female staff's mum calls him - Doctor Dong.  She's always had trouble remembering names, but she's getting worse with age.  The trouble is that when she's talking to people about "Doctor Dong" I worry that they think she is referring to some well endowed porn star, or a male escort she's seen advertised in the local newspaper.  I can only imaging the gossip going around our small town about this eighty-six year old lady.

So my male staff takes my female staff's mum into town most days to do whatever shopping she needs, pick up her mail and have a cup of coffee and a scone.  Naturally I insist on going along.  While in the car I like to sit on my female staff's mum's lap while she feeds me beans and cucumber. It distracts me from my male staff's suicidal driving.  I repay her kindness by crapping on her skirt.

Last Friday when the three of us screeched to a halt in my male staff's high powered Hyundai Getz outside the coffee shop we saw that all the tables were taken.  This doesn't really faze my staff because they have discovered that if they stand next to an occupied table looking at their watches, tutting, drooling and stroking a large furry rodent it isn't long before the occupants leave.  However, on this occasion it wasn't necessary as Mr and Mrs Fielding and their friend Gloria were seated at a large table and seeing our plight invited us to join them.  Mr and Mrs Fielding are well-to-do
clients of my male staff.  He is in the process of smuggling them both to Kenya where they apparently hope to see a variety of ferocious animals.  Well, all I can say is that I could have saved them a lot of money.  All they needed to do was drop in and watch us guinea pigs for a couple of weeks.  All it would cost them is a bunch of basil and a cucumber or two.  Anyway, each to their own as they say.

We joined Mr and Mrs Fielding and Gloria at their table and immediately the conversation turned to the subject of their forthcoming trip to Africa.  My male staff was offering all sorts of useful advice like  - When your guide stops the vehicle for you to photograph lions, don't jump out and run towards them yelling  "Here kitty kitty!"  Once this topic had exhausted itself the subject of health came up as it usually does when elderly humans get together. I find that they like to discuss and compare different brands of colostomy bags and Zimmer frames and brag about the medical procedures they've had recently. 

"I've just had a septuplet heart bypass with a triple somersault and double toe-loop.  It's amazing what they can do these days. I went into the theatre at eight in the morning, was out by quarter past and was home in time for morning tea. 'Course I had to get the missus to stitch me up with her knitting needles, but we saved heaps of money." You know the kind of thing I'm talking about.  Stools also feature prominently in these conversations.  Apparently this most basic item of furniture is very important to older humans and soft stools in particular are much sought after.  I suppose they're more comfortable than the hard ones.

Mr and Mrs Fielding and Gloria seemed rather distracted during these conversations for some reason.  It may have been that they were not used to having a guinea pig running around on their table sniffing at things and chewing on those little paper bags of sugar.  In any case something my female staff's mum said certainly got their attention.
  "My vagina's getting worse all of a sudden. I can barely walk to the bottom of the garden these days."
Gloria sputtered her skinny latte all over my fur and Mrs Fielding dropped the last bit of her chocolate brownie into her cappuccino, while Mr Fielding went as red as an albino guinea pig's eyes. My female staff's mum waved a piece of buttered scone in Mr Fielding's direction.  "Have you ever had vagina problems Mr Fielding? She asked.
  "Errr.......well.........I........ummm....." He stuttered, unable to finish before he was interrupted by my female staff's mum who took his reply to mean yes.
  "It's the strangest feeling isn't it?  Pins and needles up and down your arms, and it feels has though someone very fat is sitting on your chest.  How does your vagina feel Mr Fielding?  I understand it feels different to everybody."  Mr Fielding was starting to sweat.  He was rescued by Mrs Fielding.
  " Oh, you mean angina." She said. Heart pains......angina."
  "Yes dear.  That's what I said........Vagina."  Said my female staff's mum in a loud voice that stopped the hum of conversation in the rest of the coffee shop.  She continued in an equally loud voice.  "I'll give you the name of my hearing aid man if you like.  He's very good you know."

Gloria made a brave attempt at changing the subject to something less embarrassing.  "I do like these little chocolate coated coffee beans they put in your spoon, don't you?" She said popping the thing into her mouth.  My male staff snatched me up abruptly from the table and stood, hauling my female staff up by the arm.  "Well, we must be going.  Lovely to see you and thanks for sharing your table with us."  He bundled my female staff's mum out of the door with one arm and carried me with the other.  I looked back just in time to enjoy the look on Gloria's face as she bit into her "chocolate coated coffee bean".

BORIS'S BIT
Vot ich vant to know is vhy ich can't go on any of zese excursions viz Herr Billy's male staff und his female staff's Mutter.  Ich vould be much better behaved zan Herr Billy. Ich vould never dream of doink der poopie in somevuns teaspoon.  Baci on der uzzer hand is ein different kessel of fisch altogezzer.