I went to the vet last week. I’m not sick, and I didn’t get chomped-on by a big dog. It was just a check-up AND a couple of shots. I love my vet, but frankly, the thermometer and the shots do NOT make it easy.
She checked my teeth and said they were good, listened to my heart and said it sounded perfect, and looked at my nails and said they needed a trim. I didn’t love that idea, but I hung in there through the squeezing, twisting, and clipping. Good as new, Mom and I got out of there, and then she bought me a new toy.
Mom says she’s a story vet. Every day she gives some of her stories a check-up.
She checked one story and said, “This is good.” She read one out loud and said, “This sounds perfect.” She read another one and said, “This needs a trim!” Then her face (and her brain) got all twisty and squeezy from thinking and she fixed up the sick story till it was good as new.
Mom said, “Being a writer is like being a doctor.” and “Sometimes these stories just need a check-up, but sometimes they need major surgery!” and “Did you bite the nose off your new toy?”
She’s not the only one doing surgery around here!