In which I get to be James Herriot

It's fortunate that I've watched so many episodes of "All Creatures Great and Small", because on Tuesday the kids I babysit suggested, for the first time, that we play veterinarian. Here I make two clarifying notes:
~For those who were wondering, I still have the great amusement of playing nanny to Indigo, Raina, and now little brother Aiden, who are five, three, and one-and-a-half, respectively. The saga continues, ta-TUM! with plenty of verve and imagination. And they equate me with Mary Poppins.
~"All Creatures Great and Small" is a 1970s BBC television series based on James Herriot's books. Sound quaint? Nothing could be quainter. I find it delightful.

To resume.
We set up out veterinary practice on the kitchen counter, where I administered shots and checkups and surgeries and prescriptions to all kinds of stuffed bunnies, kittens, turtles, little pink hippos. I dealt mainly with cases of vomiting (kids seem to have the most empirical experience with this one), but it never ceases to amaze me how a simple scenario like giving a kitten its yearly kitty checkup can become an epic involving a snarly gang of purple cats terrorizing our patients. (The whole time I was imagining purple cats wandering around the Yorkshire Dales). We had patients coming in who had been scratched by the purple cats and therefore had contracted an infection that created purple spots on the victim. We ended up serving as sanctuary to a whole swampful of ducks which were ambushed. Eventually, we were able to subdue this rough crowd, and saved many lives with purple cat shots.

As I've learned from Dr. Herriot, it's all in a day's work for the local vet.

Yours: nanny, vet, fan of quaint British tv, etc.