[ WP ] Everybody has a small animal with them representing their self image . A politician might have a well-groomed parrot , a bartender might have a pitbull ... This is the first time you 've ever met somebody with a bloody and abused familiar .

Somewhere outside my office, a tinkling bell announced the arrival of the first client of the day. 
 
 `` Welcome to Carson's Familiar Clinic! Be with you in just a moment!'' I called, straightening a thick stack of papers on my desk. From his perch behind my chair, Maverick, my myna familiar, squawked loudly. 
 
 `` Quiet you! I do n't have time for your shenanigans today!'' I chided the bird. 
 
 `` Quiet you!'' Maverick called right back, doing an incredibly accurate impression of my own voice. 
 
 I blew a piece of hair that had somehow escaped my ponytail out of my face. `` Perfect. You never talk when I want you to, but the rest of the time you wo n't shut up!'' 
 
 Maverick just squawked again in reply. 
 
 `` Promise me you will be on your best behavior today? I ca n't afford to lose any more clients because you wo n't hold your tongue.'' 
 
 `` Promise!'' The bird sidled to the far edge of his perch and began to preen, keeping one yellow eye facing me at all times. 
 
 Sighing heavily, I dropped the stack of papers into my desk. `` You can come in now!'' 
 
 The door to my office opened just a crack, allowing a woman to slip into the room. She had long, curly hair that looked as if it had only been brushed once in the last six months, a disheveled tan cardigan, and deep worry lines branching from either side of her silver-grey eyes. 
 
 `` Yes, hello...'' She started, her small voice nearly being swallowed by the room. 
 
 `` Hello there!'' I smiled broadly and extended a hand, pretending to be much happier than I actually felt. `` My name is Doctor Carson, though you can call me Amanda if you would prefer. And this fellow back here is named Maverick.'' I gestured at the bird, who said hello in an exaggerated stage whisper. The woman smiled weakly. 
 
 `` Y-yes, hello... I'm Melissa Turner.'' She gave my hand a feeble shake and let go quickly, as if it had suddenly turned into a snake. For a moment, neither of us moved, her eyes flickering around my office with a nervous energy. 
 
 `` Sit down!'' Called Maverick, almost singing the words. I shot him a dirty look. He hid his beak behind a wing and muttered a half-hearted'sorry'. 
 
 `` He does have a point though.'' I smiled weakly, trying to regain some of my composure. `` Here, have a seat. What brings you to my clinic today?'' 
 
 `` We-well, it's Jerry...'' She frowned, still not meeting my eyes, but I was used to clients who preferred to beat around the bush. 
 
 ``... Is Jerry the name of your familiar?'' I asked. She nodded, her head moving so little that her curls did n't even move. 
 
 `` I think he's sick... oh, where are you Jerry...'' 
 
 She sifted through her pockets as if looking for something, turning out a number of loose coins as she did. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. Normally, it was impossible to lose track of a familiar one once manifested. The connection was simply too strong. 
 
 `` Here he is...'' She said, without a hint of triumph. From her purse, she withdrew a tiny, crumpled field mouse and laid him on my desk. It lay exactly where she put it, not moving an inch. A trail of watery essence dribbled from the end of its tail. 
 
 `` That's not good! Maverick, help me out?'' 
 
 The bird fluttered down from his perch and alighted right next to the mouse, eyeing it closely. He hopped around it a couple of times, paying close attention to the tip of it's ruined tail. 
 
 `` Still alive!'' He called, then fluttered back to his stand. 
 
 I let out an enormous sigh of relief. `` That's good...'' I had seen quite a few damaged familiars in my day, but never one quite as bad as this. Injuries were one thing, but a death was quite another matter. Usually, the owner of a dead familiar would never fully recover, and may soon pass as well. 
 
 `` I think he's ill, but I do n't know why!'' Mrs. Turner seemed to almost be pleading. `` I have taken wonderful care of him! He has his own dish, and a little pillow my husband made for him, and...'' 
 
 `` I'm sure you do, Ma'am.'' I held up my hands to stop her before she worked herself into a frenzy. `` Has anything happened recently, around when he started acting strange?'' 
 
 `` N-no!'' She stammered, shaking her head. `` Could I have squished him somehow? Maybe... hurt him without meaning to?'' Her eyes shone with tears. 
 
 I smiled kindly at her. `` No, nothing like that. Familiars do n't get hurt in the way you or I do. Good thing too, Or Maverick would be dumb as a door-nail with all the times he has flown into closed windows! 
 
 Maverick puffed up his feathers indignantly, but remained silent. 
 
 `` Well, what then?'' The woman frowned. `` He has been like this for days, I do n't know what else to do!'' 
 
 `` Familiars are an externalization of who we are inside.'' I explained. `` When we are hurting, they hurt. When we are happy, they are happy... when I asked if anything happened recently, I did n't mean to him. I meant *to you*.'' 
 
 Mrs. Turner sniffed. `` I... I do n't know what you mean. Nothing has happened to me! Nothing at all!'' She rose to her feet, scooping up the mouse as she did. `` Now, if you are n't going to treat Jerry, I think that I should leave and find someone who will!'' 
 
 `` Alright. I'm sorry I could n't be of more assistance.'' I sighed, escorting her to the door. Trying to work with someone who would n't talk would be little more than an exercise in futility. 
 
 `` Husband!'' Crowed Maverick, startling us both. Mrs. Turner stopped. 
 
 `` What did he say?'' She turned to glare at me, as if I had been rude instead of my bird. 
 
 `` It's her husband!'' Maverick said in his best sing-song voice. 
 
 `` I just said that it was nothing!'' Mrs. Turner growled. `` Now, *good day*!'' 
 
 ``... *Is* something wrong with your husband?'' I asked, making her stop again right at the door. 
 
 `` No. He... he's perfectly alright. I, he just...'' Tears began to fill her eyes. Suddenly, she let out a choking sob. `` He's just... in a better place now...'' 
 
 All at once, she broke into tears, her fingers digging into my back for support as she pulled me into an embrace. 
 
 `` It's ok... it's ok...'' I spoke softly into her ear, stroking her curls as if she were a little girl and not a woman twice my age. 
 
 `` I-it's just... he was so *healthy*... and then... and now he's...'' 
 
 `` I know... I know...'' 
 
 `` I just could n't... could n't face everything without... without him... And then Jerry got ill, and...'' 
 
 `` Jerry's not going anywhere, Melissa. He's just hurt, same as you. Do you want to sit down talk about it?'' 
 
 `` Yes... yes, I think that would be nice...'' 
 
 Gently, I guided her back into her seat, placing her purse on the desk beside her. 
 
 `` Now let's just talk this through, one step at a time.'' 
 
 `` Well...,'' Mrs. Turner began, still sniffing, `` it all started when we went to the doctor, and one of the routine tests came back positive. We thought nothing of it, of course, but then the followups were positive too...'' She continued on for several minutes, outlining the events of the past few months with her voice slowly growing in strength. As she spoke, a tiny nose covered in whiskers poked out of her purse to sniff the air experimentally. 
 
 I smiled. One down, hundreds of others left to go. 
 
 Maybe my little business would n't wind up biting the dust after all.
