AKA Dr Cheeky!
“DR CHEEKY LASZLO!?”
We are driving through the countryside. Zsuzsa has just informed me that the surgeon who will be operating on my toe in a few days time is called Dr Cheeky. Naturally, I’m ecstatic. I thought my life had peaked when I met Dr Body, but then along came Dr Cheeky!
I roar with laughter. Zsuzsa stares at me in bemusement.
“What!?” asks Zsuzsa.
“That name!” I say. “It’s amazing! What is it with Hungarian doctors? Dr Cheeky! Dr Body! Dr Pop! Why do they all sound like sugary, carbonated drinks!?”
“It’s spelt C-S-I-K-Y.” says Zsuzsa.
I ignore her. She’s obviously desperate to drag me down from my all-time life high of finding Dr Cheeky. If I block her voice out for just a minute I can continue to spell Dr Cheeky any way that I goddamn please.
We continue our drive through the countryside in silence. We are heading back to our baby girl after visiting the spa and we are both incredibly tired as Mila has been ill for the last few days with bronchitis. In fact, only last night, I was awoken by Mila projectile vomiting on me at 02:42 in the morning. I lay there shell-shocked and covered in regurgitated peach while Mila sat next to me, grinning like a Cheshire cat and clapping like a circus seal (her latest trick). It was like a scene from some kind of budget “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!”. But despite this horrific moment being so raw in my memory, and despite the incredible fatigue that we are both currently feeling, I have a big fat smile on my face. All thanks to Dr Cheeky.
We turn a corner. That’s odd. There’s a car parked on a bend in a very precarious position. I slow the car down to navigate past.
“Oh my God!” shouts Zsuzsa.
“What!? What!? What!?”
“Wolves!” she squeals.
“Yes honey! Wolves! In the woods! Wolves in the woods! Those people had stopped to take photographs of them!”
“Nooo! There were wolves! In the woods!”
We continue to drive on, away from the wolves as my tired mind processes what she's just told me.
“You’re absolutely sure that there were wolves?”
Then I remember something. Last year I read an online article that said that packs of wolves had been known to creep in to Hungary from Slovakia, with various sightings in the Bükk mountains over the last few years. We are in the Bükk mountains! I put two and two together. WOLVES! I begin slowing down.
“What are you doing?” asks Zsuzsa.
“Looking for somewhere to turn around.” I say.
“Honey! We’ve got to get back to Mila! I told my parents we’d be back soon.”
“We will. This’ll only take a minute.”
“Look. I’ve never seen wolves in the wild before. We’ve got to turn around!”
“But we need to bath Mila!”
“Two minutes isn’t going to make a difference. I’ll bath her really fast. Wolves honey! Bastard wolves!”
I find a space to turn around and begin the journey back to the wolf hot-spot. I'm digging my heals in here. Last night we drove past a field that was on fire and Zsuzsa wouldn't let me stop to take a selfie.
“Are you absolutely sure they were wolves?”
We crawl along slowly, eyes peeled for any sign of wild dog gang.
“Have you got the camera ready?” I ask.
Zsuzsa nods. This is amazing. I’m tingling with excitement. I feel like David Attenborough! We are now very close to the spot where my eagle eyed wife first spotted the canine beasts. We are crawling along in stealth mode, camera phones at the ready…