ASK THE DOG DOC

Scene: The morning break room inside a busy metropolitan hospital.

- BY BRUCE HEADLAM AND STEPHEN SHERRILL

Two doctors and a dog sit around a table reviewing patient files.

DOCTOR A: That brings us to Mr. Henderson, who came in last week. Still weak, blood pressure low. It’s a mystery.

DOG: Henderson's got cancer. The only mystery here is what Sylvia in radiology sees in you.

DOCTOR A: What makes you think there’s something between Sylvia and me?

DOG: C’mon, I’m a dog. We sense these things. I give it two weeks.

DOCTOR B: Why do you think Henderson has cancer?

DOG: Smelled some organic compounds on his breath. Picked up traces of blood in his stool. It’s either cancer or the worst case of Happy-Tail Syndrome I’ve ever seen.

DOCTOR B: I don't buy it. I want a full workup. Blood, imaging.

DOG: While you do that, I'll do a full workup on a hair ball the size of a colostomy bag. Tomorrow, I'll still be right and there’s a good chance your patient will be dead.

DOCTOR B: Yeah, but I went to medical school.

DOG: Look to the left of you, look to the right. Only one of us has other people pick up his poop in a bag. And it isn’t you, “Doctor.”

DOCTOR A: What do you recommend?

DOG: Surgery. Open the bastard up. If I had opposable thumbs, I'd do it myself.

DOCTOR B: You can't be serious.