To Brindleton Bay we go. There’s a family-run vet there, in the hills by the pond. And by family-run, I mean the owner has the Stewarts name. She is the daughter, of the daughter, of the son, of Gram’s brother.

If you’re lost, it’s quite okay, so was Mom when she tried to explain the family link to me. Thankfully, a phone call to Gram cleared that up. Gram is quick to clear up the present of our family, it’s just the past she won’t talk about.

Both Mom and Gram said that of course this was where we needed to go to cure Nounou, as it can’t get better than family.

Let’s see how good this long lost cousin’s business really is, then.

Speaking of Gram, here she is! Her cat isn’t feeling all that well either. At least I have someone to bond with as we worry about our four-legged friends in the waiting room.

We don’t worry for long though. There aren’t that many people today, so I’m quickly ushered to an examination room. It’s cozy and nice, and probably engineered to soothe both pet and owner. It reminds me of the sea, which makes sense as the seashore is about a ten-minute walk away.

We’re not taken in charge by my great-grandmother’s brother’s granddaughter herself, as she’s apparently sick herself today, but the vet introduces herself as her mentee, and gently puts Nounou on top of the examination table. She looks nice enough.

Nounou stays calm throughout the examination, which is what convinces me that she’s talented. Nounou’s a grumpy old guy who only likes us.

The vet pulls a strange device out of a drawer, and with one shot, Nounou is cured! Rodolph no more. She even gives me a special, one-of-a-kind mentor’s grandfather’s sister’s great-granddaughter discount. Ha, family.

I don’t really care about that, though. What I care about is that my cat is all better now.

Little rascal.