In the padded play area of Dr. Lewis’ veterinary clinic, Sweet Corn looked over her five babies with motherly pride. None of her beautiful children had made bad poopies or peepees, even when Dr. Lewis gave them tiny needle hurties! She had told them that they would get a treat after and get to play, and that the little hurties would stop them from getting bad sickies and worstest hurties. She was a little concerned that her teal pointy filly didn’t want her skettimiwk treat, instead choosing to crawl chirping and peeping to her fluff, but her black earthie ate the treat instead so it didn’t go to waste. And her teal filly was soon suckling on one of Sweet Corn’s milky places so at least she was eating. And soon nice Dr. Lewis would be telling her and mummah the “medishun” he would give so that her teal filly would be talking just like her other babies. He was such a nice man and had to love her babies as much as she and mummah Liz did!
Dr. Lewis sighed, looking into the play area through the one way glass and thanking his luck for the soundproofing. It made having to give bad news to owners so much easier when he could avoid causing panic in fluffies. He ran a hand through his greying hair and adjusted his glasses, turning to Liz and shaking his head. “I barely had to examine her to tell. The teal filly’s got a case of S.B.S. Other ones are all fine but she…well, Liz, it’s not good.”
Liz arched a brow, her attention shifting from the happy family of fluffies and to the vet. He’d taken care of other non fluffy pets her family had owned and she was overjoyed he not only worked with fluffies, but had made his practice as non traumatic for them as possible. But now, something in his tone made her sure that whatever S.B.S was…she wasn’t going to like it. “That sounds bad but…it’s treatable, right?” She asked, knowing that it would probably be costly. Fluffy specialized medicine always was, but she trusted Dr. Lewis not to price gouge her. He was a good man, and an excellent vet.
Which made his next words all the worse.
“I’m afraid not. Sensitive Babbeh Syndrome isn’t curable.” He watched the teal filly suckle from Sweet Corn’s teat, while her siblings played with the foal safe toys. “You usually only see it in cases of overbreeding or incest. But I looked at Sweet Corn and Bouncer’s records and they’re unrelated and this is her first litter. She just got unlucky.” It was a shame too, because the yellow mare seemed to be an excellent mother, watching her other foals play while the teal filly drank, the content expression on the fluffy’s face showing her ignorance of the conversation going on in the other room.
“Ok…but she’s not going to die, right? I mean, Sweet Corn had mummah classes but even then she would’ve told me if the teal unicorn was a runt and she hasn’t said anything about bad babbeh smell. She’s just concerned about her not talking yet.” Liz watched Sweet Corn, her little mare’s affection for her children bringing a small smile to her lips despite Dr. Lewis’ concern. Sweet Corn loved her babies, and if it wasn’t fatal then they could get through this together, right?
“No…S.B.S isn’t fatal, at least in and of itself. But developmentally, she’s extremely stunted.” Dr. Lewis’ words drew Liz’s attention back like the snapping of a rubber band. “Her mane and tail will never grow in and she won’t ever move beyond chirps and peeps. She won’t ever be able to eat regular food due never getting her teeth and she’ll require mare’s milk which will lead to weight and health issues or there’s a Milkie Time Diet feeder that looks like a mare’s teat that will help with that at least.”
Liz had hoped that was all, but sadly Dr.Lewis continued. “Her genitals are underdeveloped and she probably won’t ever be able to have children of her own which is a small mercy considering her stunted intellectual growth and anxiety issues means she’d never be able to care for them. A breeder tried and it didn’t go well.” His tone made clear as crystal that Dr. Lewis was engaging in understatement to spare Liz the details.
“Ok so she’s got a developmental disorder.” Liz closed her eyes. She knew this, she could deal with this. She had dealt with this professionally before everything had happened. At least a fluffy wouldn’t try to stab her with a pair of scissors. “What are our options?” Her eyes opening, focusing on the veterinarian. There had to be options here, choices she could make to minimize harm to Sweet Corn and her foals.
“You’ve got options but none of them are what I’d call good.” Dr. Lewis replied with one of those sad expressions usually reserved for times when the next words were things like palliative care or hospice.”If you choose to keep the teal filly I suggest letting Sweet Corn keep another foal as well. Teal will never hit her developmental milestones and as a result not having a “Good” baby around will cause Sweet Corn a lot of distress.” He watched mummah and children, mind racing through worst case scenarios. “You’ll have to give Teal a lot more attention to get her used to you. A special diet, adaptive equipment to keep her calm. Likely diapers if she’s litter adverse. And daycare is out of the question. Fluffies that aren’t from the same family or in some cases litter tend to react poorly to S.B.S fluffies. And if you aren’t careful her sibling or even Sweet Corn may grow depressed or resentful from the extra time you spend.”
Liz filed that away. It wouldn’t be easy, but she was pretty sure she could split her time in a way that wouldn’t be traumatic. “What are the other options?”
“The second is to sell her. S.B.S foals, especially females can command prices on par with a well trained alicorn with a good coat color.” Dr. Lewis had something in the way he said this, a cross between tone and expression that had Liz waiting for the but like a condemned man waited for the axe.
“The people who pay those prices are abusers. S.B.S foals don’t react the same, they don’t shut down in response to extreme abuse. It…will be drawn out, likely sexual due to the fact that teal is a filly.” The look of disgust on Liz’s face told Dr.Lewis all he needed to know. She wouldn’t be selling Teal.
“No. No matter what, no.” Liz stated, to her mind an absolute fact. But Dr. Lewis knew that money could be a powerful motivator. He hoped she was better than that, but he had been disappointed by people before and no doubt would be disappointed by people in the future.
“The third option is a shelter. The problem is, no one here will take her due to her being S.B.S and if they did? She would likely be euthanized swiftly or picked up by an abuser. But about an hour across the state line there’s a no kill shelter that the brother of a fellow veterinarian helps run. I can state with certainty that she’d be well taken care of there and honestly? Adam might adopt her himself.” Dr. Lewis smiled but it quickly took on a sad aspect. “He and his sister are good people. A pity about what happened at Dr. Clark’s clinic but she had no way of knowing her employee was like that…”
Liz filed that away. If she couldn’t care for Teal, it was a good option. She wouldn’t get to see her, and Sweet Corn wouldn’t get to see her grow, but the pain it spared the little mare would make that a blessing. “Anything else or is that it?”
Dr. Lewis hesitated. The last option was through some perverse trick both the kindest option and the most cruel, to the point he didn’t really want to bring it up. But in the service of fairness and informed choices, he had to. “The last is to trick Sweet Corn. You’d have to do this within the next day or two, and you’d have to find a teal unicorn filly whose eyes haven’t opened. Ordinarily, she’d be able to tell the new filly wasn’t hers due to scent.” He paused, and Liz waited for the part that made him hesitate, imagination already filling in blanks with awful possibliities.
“The S.B.S filly’s scent glands can be harvested and she can be humanely euthanized. With a bit of scent blocking shampoo and the harvested glands being milked, Sweet Corn wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the new filly and her old one.” Dr. Lewis looked to the playroom, Sweet Corn watching her two red children try to roll a ball back and forth while her teal child had fallen asleep curled up in her mother’s fluff. Black and Pink meanwhile, were playing the slowest game of huggy tag ever. It was hard in that moment to ever imagine Sweet Corn not recognizing one of her babies but Dr. Lewis had learned better. “Fluffies have smell as their strongest sense and their vision is actually extremely poor except for color and general shape. Tell her the teal filly’s eyes closed because of medicine to help her talk, and by the time the extracted glands were used up, the new filly would no longer smell like a baby anyway. All it would take is a record in her breeder log.”
Liz to her shame, was considering this. She didn’t like it one bit, especially as she looked through the one way glass into the playroom. The thought of essentially murdering one of Sweet Corn’s babies and using the corpse to help trick Sweet Corn into thinking some other mare’s child was her was monstrous. But if Sweet Corn never knew, she would believe that her child had been fixed by hooman medishun. All would be well, Sweet Corn could keep one of her children. And Liz would just be the one carrying the guilt. She wasn’t sure she could do that. But if she had to, maybe she could.
Sweet Corn felt a nap coming on. Her beautiful children were playing or sleeping, and she just knew her hoomin mummah and the nice vet were talking about how to help her teal filly make good talkies. Liz was a good hoomin, and so was Dr. Lewis. They’d never do anything to give her precious babbehs hurties, or give her heart hurties. They loved her, they loved fluffies. They loved her children as much as she did. They were good hoomins. Drowsily, the little yellow mare began to sing a mummah song to her children. “Mummah luv babbehs, babbehs luv mummah. Dwink all da miwkies gwo up big an stwong. Babbehs gwo up stwong, hab own babbehs, be gud fwuffies just wike mummah.”
Liz stood, going to the window, watching Sweet Corn sing to her children. She’d made up her mind. It wouldn’t be easy, but things never really were.
“Doctor Lewis, I’m going to…”
Dr. Cheryl Clark first appeared in We Know not What we Do, by @SpaghettiDave . Read it, it’s good! Milkie Time Diet is an idea from @The_Other_Conagher , their art is good!