“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” DJ stood in Raymundo med bay, holding a whining Bozo. “I can’t believe it.”
“It’s the only way.” Raymundo stood at the small computer, watching the upload progress.
“If my dog dies because of your finger…”
“He won’t.” The loading bar inched closer. “The system has saved several lives over the years.”
“After your however many great’s figured out how to program it for humans.”
“And now I’m uploading all the information I could get about dogs. Specifically, Labradors and digestive tract blockages.” Raymundo turned around to look at DJ. In this room, the bright white lights made DJ look ghost like. "It’s going to-"
“Be fine.” DJ sighed. The computer beeped and a silver table raised up from the floor. “So you’ve said. Never mind letting an actual vet take care of Bozo, because if they test those bones and find a half human half something they don’t know genetic material, then you’ll be the one on an operating table. Even though, why would they even suspect you? You have all your fingers!”
“I mean, you don’t-”
“Yeah. I know. I don’t want you on an operating table. I still need you for all the avuncular duties you promised. Parks, birthdays, babysitting-”
“DJ.” Raymundo snapped his fingers in front of DJ’s face. “Time to put Bozo on the table.”
“I know.” DJ pulled his dog closer before taking a step closer to the table. “Are you absolutely sure this is going to work?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“All right Bozo.” DJ carefully laid his dog on the cold metal table. “You are going to be okay bud.” He ran his hands through Bozo’s fur. “It does anesthesia too, right?”
“Yes.” Raymundo put his hand on DJ’s shoulder. “It’ll be just like at a vet office.” DJ nodded. The two of them stepped back. “Proceed with Labrador surgery, to remove the blockage.”
Raymundo couldn’t watch after seeing the various robotic limbs with varying attachments descend and ascend from the various places in the ceiling and floor. He was fine with oil, grease, dirt, and gas, but blood. Nope. He was not good with most bodily fluids.
DJ watched, occasionally telling Raymundo something that was happening. “They got the bone out!” But the ship wasn’t done yet. The bone was tangled in strands of colorful rope. “Well, no more rope toys for Bozo.”
“Your dog is an idiot.” Raymundo muttered.
“Oh my god they found Chris’ pacifier in there!”
“I rest my case.” Raymundo sighed. “It wasn’t just my finger.”
“Don’t be smug about it.” Raymundo tried not to be smug about it when the surgery ended up a success. But the whole time DJ was petting Bozo as the dog slowly came too, he had a smirk on his face. DJ wagged his finger at him and rolled his eyes.
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