We recently took beaver to the optometrist, as we’d noticed one of his eyes tends to bulge out slightly, and we thought his vision might be a bit strained. We wanted to get him checked out, as we (of course) want beaver to be as healthy as possible. Unfortunately, beaver did not view it in the same light.
The car ride to the optometrist was difficult, to say the least. Beaver does not enjoy being in the car. In order to coax him in, I wave sticks near the car door, Dani scoops him up while he’s distracted, and together we strap him, howling, into the backseat. He doesn’t get carsick, but instead pretends to be violently ill and pantomimes throwing up in the backseat while making retching noises, which is unpleasant. He also has a tendency to fling himself back and forth while screeching and trying to shift gears when we are not looking. It’s impossible to say how many times we’ve caught him with his teeth around the shift knob, trying desperately to shift the car into neutral.
As soon as we made it to the optometrist’s office, beaver suddenly became docile and sat nicely while waiting for his appointment. We were suspicious.
Beaver was called back into the examination room. We walked him in, got him settled on the chair, and stationed ourselves on either side of him. We warned the doctor that beaver could get feisty, but she assured us she could handle him and that she’d rather us wait outside. We shrugged and headed back into the waiting room, leaving beaver eyeballing the equipment suspiciously.
We got up and ran to the end of the hallway and there, to our horror, we spotted beaver triumphantly marching down the corridor towards us, the doctor unconscious on the floor behind him amidst a sea of instruments. Beaver had a spring in his step and a smirk on his whiskers as he strode towards us, his one arm pumping at his side and the other – the other clutching a stick that held a brand new, shiny monocle. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, our beaver is now the proud owner of a monocle, one which magnifies his already slightly bulging eye into a formidable eyeball of terror.
After hastily paying for damages and beaver’s visit fee, we bundled him into the car, where he spent the entire car ride home peering at us through his monocle. It was slightly unnerving to check the rear view mirror and see a giant eyeball looking back at you, but I must say, it was a vast improvement over beaver pretending to be sick in the backseat.
Beaver has since taken to striding about the backyard, waving jauntily at passing birds and giving Lucy, the dachshund next door, the hairy eyeball through his monocle. We shudder to think what he will do with it next. The neighbors today, and tomorrow – tomorrow the whole of Baltimore.