By Diane Batshaw Eisman, M.D. FAAP Doctor Eisman is in Family Practice in Aventura, Florida with her partner, Dr. Eugene Eisman, an internist/cardiologist
I have requested that my cousin Doctor Curmudgeon allow me to write her weekly column.
I am Galahad, the Siberian Husky who attempts to keep the entire Curmudgeon household on an even keel.
This column is written as a caution to parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and others who are blessed with youngsters.
A few days ago, Renpet (my feline cousin who is a retired CIA officer) decided in good faith, to take her two little nieces and my nephew to our local mall. I felt obligated to accompany her. In my naiveté, I thought it would be a nice family outing.
We felt confident in our preparations for this holiday trip, as due to Covid, the little ones had not been able to do this in quite a while. They were all fully vaccinated and outfitted with the most comfortable masks that we could find.
As a good uncle and aunt would do, we made sure that they had a healthy substantial breakfast, and had used the facilities at home prior to our adventure.
We procured bright red comfortable leashes for the youngsters and held a firm grip at all times.
Renpet and I considered ourselves fortunate to have found a parking space close to a main entrance.
Our difficulties began as soon as we entered.
My young nephew, Sebastian, spied a puppy avoiding the puppy relief station and relieving himself next to it. Sebastian set up a howl, and used curse words that astonished Renpet and I. I assumed it was the part Samoyed in him that was sometimes a little arrogant.
“She’s just a puppy,” I admonished him as I quickly dragged the loudmouth away while the puppy’s mother glared at our whole little entourage.
Our shopping excursion had Renpet and me in utter exhaustion.
The kittens enjoyed displaying their leaping form by attempting to jump onto counters while their mischievous husky cousin encouraged their behavior.
They found carolers singing and of course, the kittens joined in with their highest pitched screeches while Sebastian howled along.
We received far too many dirty looks.
In order to illustrate our real feeling about our excursion I must mention that cousin Renpet, the loving aunt of those too-energetic kittens had never felt such anxiety and distress in any of her assignments as a CIA officer.
We arrived home, in time to light our Chanukah candles.
This was a favorite time of the year for the kittens and my nephew.
After the candles were aglow, they joined the whole family in singing.
Our tradition is to give each one a little gift on every one of the eight nights.
The adults in the family have decided that next year, the children will be allowed to enter the mall as soon as it opens, when it is less crowded, and all the adults in the household will be in attendance. I have also considered requesting that two friends of mine who are canine officers accompany us as backup.
Additionally, one of my gifts to the youngsters next year will be singing lessons. They are already adept in screech and howl.
Dr. Curmudgeon suggests “Bitter Medicine”, Dr. Eugene Eisman’s story of his experiences–from the humorous to the intense—as a young army doctor serving in the Vietnam War.
Bitter Medicine by Eugene H. Eisman, M.D. –on Amazon
Doctor Curmudgeon® is Diane Batshaw Eisman, M.D., a physician-satirist. This column originally appeared on SERMO, the leading global social network for doctors.
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