Aramis the Vet

Aramis was quite innocently strolling down the street, easily dodging the people in the milling crowd that always gathered on market day, when something tugged on his sleeve. He looked down to see a little girl with ginger hair and lots of freckles, her cheeks wet with tears. She was carrying something wrapped in a thick, brown blanket.

He crouched down to be at eye-level with the little girl. He gave her a friendly smile, which usually worked to reassure the female of the species whatever their age. "Hello," he said, "are you alright?"

"Monsieur, monsieur!" the little girl sniffed. "I think my puppy is very sick!" She hugged the bundle she carried tighter, if that was possible.

Aramis' kind heart went out to the girl. He hoped it was something curable for her sake, if not the puppy's. "What makes you think your puppy's sick?" he asked softly.

"She – she makes these funny noises," the little girl replied, tears starting to dry up now that someone was listening to her.

"What kind of funny noises?" Aramis pressed.

"Squeaky ones. And grunty ones. Lots – lots of grunty ones."

Squeaking Aramis could understand, but grunting was something else. He held out his arms for the bundle. "Can I have a look at her so I can see what the matter is?" When the little girl appeared hesitant, he said, "Please? I promise I won't drop her."

The little girl handed Aramis the bundle carefully. The puppy's face was covered by a flap of the blanket, and when Aramis pulled it back there was a pink snout twitching at him. "Oh, er..." he stuttered in shock.

"Is she going to be alright?" the little girl asked worriedly.

"Erm..." said Aramis, not used to the phenomenon of speechlessness.

"Oink, oink," said the decidedly-not-a-puppy.

THE END