SIX
“What do you know about anal glands?”
I stared in horror at the tiny woman who sat across the table from me bathed in the bright morning sunshine, and wondered if lack of sleep from my interrupted night had finally, some eight hours later, caught up with me. At least this topic had the benefit of distracting me from wondering where and how I was going to find Peter, a subject that had been uppermost in my mind the last few hours. Right, anal glands. “Um. They’re in the behind?”
“Here.” Reluctantly, I accepted the pair of thin latex gloves that were thrust at me. “It is time for Jacques to have his anal glands expressed. If you do not do it every two months, he attempts to do so himself by dragging his bottom on the carpet. It is most disconcerting, not to mention unclean.”
We both
