Setting: Buffy season six.
Summary: Just another day of madness in the life of a man who can talk to the animals.
Crossover: Buffyverse/Dr Dolittle (Eddie Murphy version)
Characters: Dr Dolittle, Dawn and Willow.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to speakr2customrs, who’s made me groan more than once.
There was a brief flurry of activity at the door to Dr Doolittle’s office, and three people suddenly burst in, one of which was carrying what appeared to be a dead cat with arrows through it. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” stammered his receptionist, “but they insisted on seeing someone as soon as possible.”
Dr Dolittle stared at the obviously dead cat, and began to realise just why no-one else had applied for this temporary residency in Sunnydale. Maybe he should have gone with the rest of his family to Disneyland after all….
“That’s okay, Jen,” he re-assured her and mentally crossed his fingers, “I could do with a break from all this paperwork after all.” Moving over to the examination table, he patted it. “Now why don’t you lovely ladies put your cat down here, and I’ll take a look at her. See just what she died of, heh heh.”
The red-haired woman almost blanched at that, and clutched at the arm of the younger, long haired brunette. “Oh goddess, no. Dawn! She’s not dead – she can’t be!”
Dawn shook off the other’s hand, and placed the cat down on the table. “I really don’t think there’s anything the doc can do, Willow,” she said sadly, looking at the two arrows through the feline corpse.
“Ooookay, ladies,” Dr Dolittle interjected, as he leaned forward and inspected the creature. A distinct lack of breathing, two arrows (or possibly crossbow bolts?) through the chest, and no movement whatsoever. “I’m sorry,” he announced with an air of finality, “But she’s definitely dead.”
Willow started hyper-ventilating. “But she…she can’t be! Tara! She can’t be dead! Miss Kitty Fantastico cannot be dead! I demand a second opinion!”
Dr Dolittle just stared at them for a moment. “Miss Kitty Fantastico?” he asked incredously. Dawn gave him a small embarrassed smile back.
“Second opinion! Now!” ordered Willow, almost stamping one foot angrily.
Rolling his eyes, Dr Dolittle went to the office door, stuck his head out through it and whistled loudly. “Yo! Lucky! Get your ass in here, boy!” he shouted.
A large brown Labrador trotted into the consulting room, and glanced around curiously. “Okay, Lucky – I need you to give that cat a once over and let me know how it’s doing,” the doctor explained. Dawn’s eyebrows rose.
Lucky swung his head to look at the blatantly dead cat on the table, and then back to the doctor who just shrugged. Lucky trotted over and carefully sniffed the body, then carefully batted it back and forward with his paws. He barked once at Dr Doolittle and sprang back down to the ground before trotting out of the room.
“See? Dead as a doornail, man,” the doctor said.
“Ooooookay. Good enough for me,” said Dawn hurriedly. “Let’s go, Willow.”
Willow stubbornly dug in her heels, and refused to move. “Third opinion?” she said in a quavering voice.
“Fine. Why not?” said Dr Doolittle, and flung open the door on the other side of his office. He blinked in bemusement. “No, nurse! I said his duck was sick!” he yelled and quickly slammed the door before Dawn could peer inside.
Sticking his head out into the corridor, he whistled once more, and a large Siamese cat strolled into the room. Jumping up onto the table with ease, she turned and stared at Dr Doolittle. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, waving one finger at her, “don’t you be giving me that look. The lady wants to know about her cat here.”
The Siamese turned her head and regarded the body of Miss Kitty Fantastico for a moment. Slowly she got up, every body motion indicating this was a complete and utter waste of her time, and examined the body. She butted her head against Miss Kitty for a moment before carefully smelling along the body and finally poked the corpse with a claw. With an indignant hiss, she turned her back and strode off.
“See? Dead. Deceased.” said Dr Doolittle, arms folded.
Willow burst into tears and convulsively clutched the remains to her. Dawn flashed the doctor an embarrassed smile, and started to push Willow towards the exit. “So, um… how much do we owe you for the consultation, doc?” she asked.
“That’ll be $250,” said Dr Doolittle unsmiling, “Jen’ll be glad to take that at the front desk. Goodbye.”
“Wait, wait! Two hundred and fifty dollars to tell us our cat is dead!?!?” exclaimed Dawn disbelievingly.
“Well, yes,” smiled Dr Doolittle. “It would have been $40, but that was before the lab result and the CAT scan.”