Omar's Diary for Monday 29th October 2018
By Alan Russell
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I have to admit that lately I have been feeling slightly scratchy. After a rather obvious display of discomfort over the weekend my Servants took me to my private medical centre earlier this evening.
At Omar Towers I was loaded into my personal travelling pod in a most indelicate way. This process was reversed at the medical centre where, because of my reluctance to leave the pod, I was unceremoniously removed from it after it had been partially dismantled. I was, and there is no better word for it, ‘plonked’ on to the examination table like a piece of meat in butcher’s shop. I was poked, prodded and had my skin forensically examined to then hear the diagnosis.
‘He has harvest mites. Quite common this time of year with all the warm weather we have been having lately’ the servant doctor said to my Servants ‘A steroid injection and he should start feeling better in about ten days.’
Suddenly I had lost my name. I had become a ‘he’ instead of an ‘Omar’. This private service is not what it used to be. I felt a slight prick on the nape of my neck as the steroid injection was administered.
‘Harvest mites’ or to give them their proper Latin name ‘Trombiculidae’ and their more colloquial name is ‘chiggers’. Sounds rather common that. ‘Chiggers’ and that would help explain where I think the little mites came from; Lagerboy next door.
Thinking my consultation was over I started heading towards the now reassembled personal travelling pod when I heard those dreaded words.
‘Would you mind popping him on the scales just to check his weight?’ the servant doctor asked Man Servant.
Once again, I had had lost my identity and become a ‘him’ rather than an ‘Omar’. I really must write to the practice manager about this.
‘Oh’ the servant doctor exclaimed ‘Could you pop him on the scales on the floor?’
Another ‘Oh’.
‘Last time Omar was here he was six and a half kilos. Today he is seven and a half which is over a kilo more than he really should be weighing in at’ the servant doctor explained.
At last I am an ‘Omar’ and not a ‘him’ or a ‘he’.
‘It is really important he loses that weight as it could start affecting his joints, vital organs and could even lead to diabetes’ she finished.
Lost my name again and wondered if the harvest mites had caused my weight increase?
I was crestfallen and loped back into my travelling pod. I had worked jolly hard building up that reserve for winter and now it all had to go.
All the way back to Omar Towers in the limousine I heard Lady Servant say she would be buying in special food for me to help lose weight. I have seen servants’ special food when they have the same problem and it just doesn’t look right. Especially the salad regime Man Servant is on at the moment. Man Servant told Lady Servant the worst possible news that I would no longer be able to enjoy Dreamies and any winnings I collect from Servant Ticker will have to go straight into the tin to be enjoyed once I have lost that kilo. Man Servant then served another deeply wounding comment, he is going to help me with an exercise regime. I do not know how that will work and can hardly wait to find out.
Still, despite these statements of resistance I am quite resolved to lose that weight as I most certainly do not want to start having problems with my joints, vital organs or contract any form of diabetes. I understand being overweight is an endemic problem with the servant species which makes me think. With all the extra weight from overweight servants and felines will that ever affect how the earth rotates? Will that extra weight slow down its daily spin and actually make the days longer?
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Comments
I wish it could make the days
I wish it could make the days longer! Good luck with the diet. Let us know how you get on Omar.
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Harvest mites sound nasty!
Harvest mites sound nasty! When I got my first feline friends, many many years ago, I read somewhere that cats self regulate their eating and you should feed them what they want. Ha! One of mine was the size of a beach ball when we finally took her in hand.
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