A Busy Waiting Room

Essay by streethooligan101 January 2008

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On a late Friday afternoon, the waiting room is crowded with people, and the horrid smell of wet dogs hangs in the air. The vague scent of the disinfectants does little to hide the stunk. Because of the impatience of the people, a tense atmosphere fills the cold room.

Outside, one can here rain pouring hard on the tiled roof. A waterfall of dirt from the unclean gutters splashes hard on the doorstep of the Animal Hospital. One can also hear the screeching sound of tyres slipping on the wet gravel road. A beggar is standing on a corner at the stop street, desperately wanting something warm to ease his shivering body. However, not a single soul stops to give the unfortunate man a small donation. I can’t help but feel sympathy towards this pitied man.

Shifting my attention to the interior of the room, I hear the voice of a woman raving franticly about a deadline to someone over her phone.

Meanwhile, others are desperately trying to calm their pets. A golden retriever is barking abruptly to another dog opposite him, making his owner more agitated and regretful of bringing him here. And five pups are scattering about like ants after a candy bar.

In an obscure corner of the room, sits a humble man. His clothes are ragged and old. A beautiful parrot is comfortably positioned on the man’s right shoulder. The bird has a remarkable pinkish-blue colour. It seems rather odd to me that this poor man is reluctant to be in the public eye with such a significant bird. Next to him, I can vaguely make out a black and white painting of a horse jumping over a hedge. Beneath the painting is a broad shelf holding what seems like an endless supply of animal...