"And can you roar like a lion?"

"Grr."

Weak. The tux pulled away with a disapproving grimace. "Come now, I know you've got one in there. Let's do it together. On three; one... two... three!"

The emergency department erupted in a string of roars as both kitten, parent, doctor, and bored patients alike roared along. From the nursing station Head Nurse Jennyanydots peered out quizzically, catching the eye of a couple passing nurses and one confused intern. "What a good roar!" Mistoffelees cheered. "And you most definitely do *not* have laryngitis. Looks like a mean chest cold to me, Mom."

"Then she would need antibiotics, right? To clear it up?"

"Nope. It'll clear on its own with some rest, fluids, and maybe a day off school if someone can play up those pretty brown eyes. But if you're concerned you can always followup in a couple of weeks if it seems to be lingering."

"That was a waste of two hours," she griped. "I want a second opinion."

"...A second opinion. Of course. I'll grab a colouring book and some crayons for Sillabub here while you wait for the attending physician." With the curt snap of his gloves he disposed of the rubber and wandered back over to triage. From the bottom drawer he pulled out a Disney colouring book and a six pack of crayons... for good measure he picked up a lozenge for the poor kit.

Glancing up with a huff he spotted his attending coming out of a consultation in the first trauma room, speaking hurriedly to Munkustrap as they walked to the elevators. Mistoffelees had a bad feeling that his attending physician was on his way out. "Skimbleshanks! Doctor, I-"

"I can't right now, Mistoffelees, I'm expected upstairs in... a half hour ago. You can speak to one of the residents if you need help."

Aw sugar. Looked as though Sillabub was getting that day off of school. "I can help if you'd like," called Munkustrap from where Skimbleshanks left him, finishing his notes on the patient chart. "You're looking to have a second opinion?"

"On my eight-year-old patient. She has a viral chest infection but the mom isn't too keen on leaving without drugs."

"We'll just have to convince her otherwise. Let's motor!"

From the edge of the curtain Mistoffelees watched, a little miffed, as Munkustrap scrupulously went over the same examination he had undergone. Poking and prodding at the kit's neck, listening to her lungs- wheezing and some isolated crackling on the right- all that was left was a peek at her tonsils. The doctor pulled up the chart and flipped through the lab work. "You've taken a swab. No sign of strep, which is never bad news. Sputum?"

"Milky."

Nodding, the tabby motioned for the kit to open her mouth and he had her pant like a pollicle as he peered inside with a small flashlight. "The coughing; has it been a barking sound? A wet cough? Dry?"

The mom spoke up. "It's dryer during the day but at night it gets more wet and pleghmy; the coughing keeps her up all night."

The tabby regarded the girl with a calculating look, glancing at the mother and then at Mistoffelees. "I'll bet my left thumb that was you roaring earlier," he said with a smile. Blushing Sillabub nodded. "Ma'am, from what I see your daughter has an upper respiratory infection. It is a viral infection so antibiotics will do more harm than good; her body looks to be giving it a run for its money so I'm confident it should be able to kick it in a week or so. Do be sure to keep an eye on it and if she doesn't improve by Saturday have her come back for reassessment."

"Of course, thank you doctor."

"My pleasure. Dr. Mistoffelees will write up his out-care instructions." He stood and shook the mother's paw. Stepping to the side he motioned for the tux to follow him out. "Sometimes with parents you have to dress it up. They really like the words 'infection' and 'reassessment.' Also they're not very fond of 'terminal' so use that word sparingly."

"Alright, so how do I dress up lemon tea and cough syrup?"

"Amount, frequency, and technical jargon: one cup of citrus tea three times daily with... I dunno... some dimetapp. Also bedrest."

"You could sell bottled air to a bird."

"Maybe I could sell you on the idea of dinner tonight? I know an amazing Indian restaurant."

"You had me at dimetapp," Mistoffelees grinned, handing the tabby his file to sign off on the second opinion for discharge. The alarm signalling an arriving trauma to the ambulance bay had Munkustrap jogging off with a weary sigh; he met the screaming patient at the door and jumped into a whirlwind adventure in reducing a hip.