"My, oh my!" Doctor Grishen exclaimed, placing a paw
lightly on the open jaw of the baby Uni that sat before her. She peered intently
into the little pony's mouth once more, shining her light on his throat to have
a look at the inflamed tissue at the back. "That's quite a bad case of Kikoughela
you have there, Winny." To the Uni's owner she added, "But nothing a good dose
of Kikoughela Syrup won't cure! Two spoonfuls should do the trick nicely." Winking
at the very relieved looking girl, Grishen stepped quickly out of her path so
as not to be trampled by the worried owner stumbling over to her precious pet.
The green Gelert watched the girl embrace the
baby Uni and sighed over the sweet, loving bond that existed between owner and
pet. Or most owners and pets, as she knew. She had seen too many pets
become sick as a result of neglect and stay sick because of the greediness
of their owners. Dabbing at her eyes with her white lab-style coat, Grishen
thought of her own son.
Trinin was a very small blue Grarrl, who had
caught a mild case of Ugga-Ugga when the disease first began to circulate. When
Grishen informed him of this, Trinin's owner had walked right out of the hospital
without even saying a word of goodbye, and never come back. The Grarrl had become
her responsibility, and though she could just as easily have brought him to
the Pound when he was fully healed, she had taken him into her own home out
of kindness. The little dino had grown on her quickly, and the thought of Trinin's
chances in the Pound frightened her.
Shelving happy memories of Trinin's first toy
and all his other firsts she had witnessed, Grishen padded softly down the sterile
white halls. The gray carpet at her feet was worn and coming up in some spots
at the edges, and she made note to apply to the NeoCouncil of Public Funding
and Service to get the floors redone. Perhaps this time they would listen to
her and get tiling done. What sort of hospital had carpet instead of tile? It
was most unhygienic, as old carpeting tended to carry various molds and other
allergen spores that vacuuming alone could not clean. Yes, she would have to
ask forcefully for the tile this time.
Reaching her destination, room 4C, she deftly
turned the doorknob with her paw and trotted inside, closing the door behind
her with her long whipping tail. The only occupant of the room (to speak of
patients, that is) was currently sleeping, so Grishen took great care to wake
him gently so he would be able to fall asleep again as if nothing had happened
after she made a quick routine check-up on him. He was a fire Lupe, quite dashing
-- or he would have been had his face and entire body been burned when a fight
in the Battledome had gone bad. According his owner, a weapon the Lupe -- Greau
was his name -- carried had malfunctioned and burned him badly. Grishen remained
skeptical about the weapon's origin, for though his owner insisted is was an
item from the Hidden Tower, the quick-witted Gelert knew of several black market
weapons that had such effects when they broke mid-battle. That fact compounded
with the knowledge that nothing made by Fyora would have ever been anything
but perfect cast the owner's explanation into doubt with the doctor. Grishen
kept her thoughts to herself, though she cast several dubious looks over at
the teenage boy sitting next to the heavily-badaged Lupe.
When Grishen made to leave, the boy cleared gave
a fake cough to get her attention. "Are you sick as well, sir?" she asked, knowing
full well that he was not. She forced her face into a look of almost-concern.
She glanced at the Lupe and saw that he was asleep once more.
"No, no, I'm fine," he insisted, actually believe
she thought him ill. Grishen mentally rolled her eyes. "It's just..." Impatiently
the doctor bobbed her head for him to continue. "When his fur regrows and all"--Grishen
knew immediately where this was going, and fought to keep her expression placid--"Will
he still be fire colored? Or will I have to paint him again?"
Grishen sighed mock-thoughtfully. She had gotten
this question many times before. When the boy had seemed worried, she had assumed
it was for his pet's welfare. She was disappointed and angry that it was over
such a vain thing, especially since it was most likely his fault his pet was
here in the first place. Well, she would just have to teach this boy a thing
or two about greed and vanity, in a most cunning way as usual. Nothing less
would do.
"Well, I can't really tell you that right now,"
Grishen said, sounding as convincing as she could. She shoved aside memories
of medical school, of classes teaching that doctors should be tolerant of owners
who were less than perfect whose pets were ill. She had paid rapt attention
in those classes, so as not to fail on the field, but soon deserted real kindness
in favor of well-hidden mockery after seeing how little too many owners cared
for their pets. After a moment of pretending to ponder the paint subject, she
asked him, "Do you know how the painting process works?"
The boy shook his head, and the Gelert forced
a friendly smile. "You see," she began to explain. "The paint brush does not
actually paint the pet's fur itself, but rather the hair follicles on
the skin. This way the color is not lost when pets shed or have their fur trimmed.
In cases such as this, sometimes the damage to the follicles is irreversible.
They may have been charred beyond the capacity to produce the specially colored
fur." She paused a moment to let that sink in. "Or any fur at all." The boy
gasped and she nodded grimly.
Suddenly, he stood up. "If Greau wakes before
I'm back, can you tell him I'm off on an errand and I'll be back soon?" Grishen
nodded. "Well... um, thanks for the information, Doctor. I'll be back in a short
while." He strode to the door quickly and opened the door. Taking a last look
at Greau, he walked out with a decisive look on his face. Fleetingly, Grishen
wondered if he'd actually be back.
"It's over," a voice moaned behind her. She looked
back to see Greau sitting up in his bed, looking pained both physically and
mentally. So he hadn't been sleeping, only faking it. "He's not coming back
for me. I don't blame him."
"Now, now, dear," Grishen soothed, gently trying
to ease him back into a laying position. "Don't be so negative." She turned
to leave, but a soft sob from the Lupe stopped her.
"I'm alone, abandoned!" he wailed, his pitiful
cries crushing Grishen's heart. She patted him on the back and tried to stop
his crying, but could not. "Don't you know?" he demanded, tears streaming down
his the bandaged face, soaking the gauze. "The only reason he adopted me was
'cause I'm fire! 'Cause he's never have to pay to paint me! And now-- now--"
Racking sobs kept Greau from speaking for a while, giving the Gelert a chance
to come up with a course of action. The sobs subsided into nothing more than
slight shaking, and he continued where he had left off. "He won't want me now.
Now that I'm -- ugly." The last word was barely a whisper. He laid back
down without further struggle, and even allowed Grishen to give him a sedative.
Once more navigating through the winding white
hallways, the Gelert doctor thought about what would happen to Greau. His coat
would grow back when the burns healed, as fiery as it once surely was. He would
probably go straight from a thirty second stay in the Pound to the home of another
owner. She hoped very much it would not be a newbie who would leave Neopia after
only staying a few days. She hoped he would go to a loving owner and family.
She hoped that his story would go on as happily as Trinin's was.
She stopped just in the door way of the room
of the next patient she was scheduled to check up on. "Why can't it?" she demanded
of no one. The patient, a Faerie Usul with a dented wing, stared at her as if
she were crazy. So she must have seemed, talking to air. To the Usul's surprise,
the doctor swung the door shut behind her, but not from inside the room.
Grishen dashed down the hallways in much the
same style as a Gelert chasing a toy thrown by its owner. She nearly plowed
down several nurses and almost overturned a lunchcart making its rounds. The
Mynci pushing it steadied the cart and clicked her tongue as she watched Grishen
disappear behind a corner at breakneck speed.
Still a bit teary, and not at all sleepy despite
the sedative he had been given, Greau was confused as the door slammed open
and Doctor Grishen burst in, panting as if she had just come from play. "Turn
off the waterworks, Greau," she gasped as she staggered exhaustedly up to him.
"No need for you to waste tears on an owner who was a crum bucket, anyway."
Greau's eyes widened even more than they already had. "I kind of... fibbed when
I told him that your coat wouldn't grow back fire..." The Lupe's eyes were saucers
under the cream-colored bandages.
"But--but--" he stuttered, trying to straighten
his confused thoughts into words. "But you're a doctor!" he exclaimed
after a bit of sputtering. Grishen shrugged. "Doctors don't lie!"
"Not to nice people, they don't. Only to the
selfish, the greedy, and the vain. Oh, and also to the rude. Rude people are
terrible."
The Lupe shook his head to clear it. "So... I'm
not going to be bald for the rest of my life?" he asked hopefully. Grishen shook
her head, a huge grin plastered across her face. "But what about all that burnt
follicle stuff you told him? Oh..."
They both shared a laugh. "No, that all wasn't
true. It was actually something I learned in medical school, an early theory
-- made by an owner, of course -- about paint brushes. But science has nothing
to do with them. They're either Faerie magic or something higher. Once you're
painted, you're that color for life. Unless you use another paint brush, that
is." She could not a suppress a huge smile as she saw the tears welled up in
Greau's eyes again, but this time of happiness.
"So I'm not going to be stuck in the Pound forever!
It'll just be a quick stay until someone spots me and snaps me up for being
painted!" He sat up and gave a happy bark of joy, before seeing Grishen's frown.
"No, Greau," she informed him, trying to seem
grim so as to set him up to be surprised. "There'll be no Pound stay for you.
Not even a short one." He looked at her puzzled, and she was positive that he
had one eyebrow cocked under those bandages. "I want you to stay with me," she
said quietly. "And my son Trinin. He was abandoned for being sick, too. That
way you won't risk getting stuck with another owner who's lousy." The idea slowly
sunk into Greau's mind, showing on his face as gradually increasing joy.
"You really mean it, Doc?" he asked incredulously.
She nodded. He gave another happy bark, causing a passing nurse to stick her
head in and make a shushing sound. He fell silent, but the grin on his face
and the thumping of his tail told what he was feeling. "When can I get out here?"
he asked in an excited whisper. "And who's Trinin?"
"I'll explain everything to you later. After
you've gotten some sleep. My doctor side is taking over once more, and she says
you better take some rest or she'll revoke her offer." Greau's face fell and
he quickly laid back down on the bed. "But my good-natured side will kick her
tail if she even tries it."
Once Greau was asleep, Grishen quietly crept
out of the room and back into the hallway once more. This time she was very
light hearted, though. It wasn't every day a doctor got to do her job twice
as good. She was not only healing Greau's body, but also his life. "Oh, I can't
wait to introduce him to Trinin!" She skipped excitedly down the hallway, without
any little worries about worn carpet or annoying owners bothering her for once.
The End
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