Talmudist
by Bill Tope
"What is
it, Doc? What's the matter with Bluto?"
asked the little man anxiously, standing before
the examination table in the local veterinary.
Bluto sat upon the table, wagging his little tail.
"Well, Mr.
Skinner," replied Dr. Mittlemann, "I'm
afraid it's worse than we suspected: it's
rabbis."
Skinner
blinked in disbelief. "Rabbis?" he
repeated incredulously. "I can't
believe what I'm hearing. Where in the world
would Bluto contract rabbis?"
"Rabbis
are virtually everywhere in nature; they're in
raccoons, foxes, even bats. Mr. Skinner,
you find a forest, and you'll find rabbis."
"But,
Bluto's an inside dog," protested the pet
owner.
The vet shook
his head. "Doesn't matter. It happens;
it's what religious persons would call a miracle,"
asserted the doctor.
Skinner raised
his hands, dropped them back helplessly to his
sides. "Rabbis aren't always fatal, are they?"
His words were laced with desperation.
Mittlemann
took a seat on the edge of the exam table. “Usually
only in German Shepherds. Luckily, old
Bluto here is a hardy Canaan Dog!” He gave
the animal a vigorous muzzle rub.
“Isn’t
there anything we can do?” asked Skinner.
"There
are measures we can take; we could try a canine
pogrom, of course."
Skinner shook
his head. “I don’t know, i wouldn’t
want to get into trouble with the authorities,
you know....”
“You mean
the ASPCA or the AKC—the American Kennel
Club?” asked the doctor.
Skinner shook
his head no again. “No! Forget the AKC;
what about the ADL--the Anti-defamation League?”
The two men
regarded one another for a long moment, Skinner
pensive and the vet swinging his glasses
reflectively by an earpiece. Finally the
former spoke: “How long do I have to
make a decision, Doc?” Mittlemann
gazed at the calendar on the wall.
“You’ve
got eight days from today, Mr. Skinner. Till the
end of Passover.”
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