[Unclear print lines. Slight angle.]
Dear Mother Tabbyskins, and how are you now, let me feel your pulse, so-so, show your tongue, bow-wow!
Very sick, very sick!
Please attempt to purr.
Will you take a draught or pill, which do you prefer?
Doctor Dog comes nearer, says she must be bled.
I heard Mother Tabbyskins screaming in her bed.
Very fast very fast scuffling out and in, Doctor Dog looks full and queer
Where is Tabbyskin?
I will tell the moral without any fuss:
those who lead the young astray always suffer thus.
Very nice, very nice let our conduct be.
For all doctors are not mice, some are dogs, you see.