“Well, unfortunately, since Dr M passed away, he can’t actually–he can’t actually come down from wherever he is and be your vet anymore.”
“True, even though for all we know he’s right here with us now. Standing right over there, and smiling.”
“Uh….yes, but I don’t think his signature would be legally valid.”
“And how would he hold a pen?”

“So, I know some older vets will be a little old-fashioned,”
“Oh, you do not have to say that twice.  Dr. M, bless his soul–the newest piece of equipment he owned was a microchip scanner. Which I bought him for Christmas. That, and a scale, and a microscope. Which I believe was invented in the 1500s. When did Leeuwenhoek invent the microscope?–he did his medicine out of the dark ages.”
“….I, uh, understand that he was…more of a large-animal vet.”
“Oh, he did everything. Mostly though, he was cheap.”

kill your darlings

In the year of the griffin, 
the eight days of Luke,
and the hour of the gremlins, 
A stainless steel rat runs for president (to hell and back)
For the right to arm bears.

I’ve been editing my last poem…which is to say, I’ve changed it a lot in very unnoticeable ways. The main issue, though, is that it needs to be chopped roughly in half….