Feathers

Now many of you may not know that as a Centaur, or Centauride, our horse half has the similar physiology as Earthbound equines. Izzy my Alpha Herd Registered mare however was not amused with me, a solid thump jolted me awake, with a startled.
“What!”
Now that sort of tone does not go down well, with the female persuasion. Yet the sneaky mare pretended to have just woken up, a yawn and stretch, a master class in acting.
“Sorry dear, did you say something?”
Mmm, ok. If that’s how you want to play it, in a hurt voice I challenged her.
“You thumped me.”
“Really, you must have been dreaming dear?”
My legs twitched, grief why did they itch so much? The hairy feathers above my draft dinner plate sized hooves, and I couldn’t reach them.
“Izzy love, scratch my fetlocks.”
She looked skeptical. “Is this some new kink?”
“Not unless I enjoy pain, they itch like mad.”
She rolled off the low mattress, another lazy stretch, stood up and walked around to my side. Looking down at my rear fetlocks, a sharp intake of breath. “It looks raw, I’m not sure if it’s spots or a sort of scabby rash. Definitely not touching that.”

Great, a medical visit then. I remember the time back on Earth when I was human before a magical accident turned me into a centaur, the joy of discovering at the age of 48 I had Shingles. This felt the same, painfully Itchy.

As both half human, and half equine we have medical professionals that cover our needs, a combination of what would be on Earth a doctor, and veterinarian. Although they have an advantage over Earthbound veterinary colleagues, we can tell them what hurts.

One thing about being employed by, “CARMA, (Control Acquisition Recovery of Magical Artifacts,) run by the Goddess Epona, is that the medical benefits are outstanding, like same day appointments. All this is paid for by the Agencies ability not only to recover dangerous magical items, but back engineer the useful stuff to sell.

The walk to the surgery at least got us out in the fresh air, a magically controlled climate is easy if you know how.
The waiting rooms are similar though no matter what dimension you may be in, out of date copies of, “Centaur, and Hound,” “Anthro Mares Monthly,” “Centauride Fashion” and, Sheeple Weekly,” piled on a table.
One Border Collie bitch, was berating her young offspring, we could not help but overhear.
“So if Calum told you to jump off a bridge, would you?”
A Muffled voice replied. “But my favorite ball is in here, Calum said it was fine to get it.”
I snorted, Izzy nudged me, whispering. “It’s not funny.”
“What? Not every day you see a canine with a vase on his head.”
I crossed my rear leg to scratch, that earned me another slap. “Stop it, you’ll make it worse.”
Why is it that time appears to run slower in such places? My mind wandered, as I started to read the various posters on the wall. Grief, I never knew we could even catch that. Equine hygiene, and the benefits of a sheath wash. If you’re not careful you start worrying, it’s a hypochondriac’s playground.
The wide door of the consulting room opened, an anthropomorphic Stallion walked out. A female voice from within called out. “Graham Taylor-Brooke Bloodworth.”
Herd protocol is that of the Stallion’s given name, Mare’s line name, yes, Izzy has a double-barreled name and lastly herd designator.
I smiled, as Izzy followed me. I liked my healthcare professional Drexy Carlton. Don’t get me wrong, it’s purely admiration. Besides she is an anthropomorphic mare, not really compatible, I’m also happily registered to Izzy and the gold ring around our front offside hooves says so. Yet my stallion hind brain was happy to dispense a dopamine hit, as I watched her rear sway and swishing tail.
The door closed with a sigh, Drexy was reading my notes.
“Right, what appears to be the problem?”
I explained about the itch, she walked over to a dispenser and donned a pair of disposable blue gloves. I felt her fingers parting my feathers, before her commenting.
“Classic case of Sarcoptes scabiei, or mange.”
Izzy laughed. “You’re officially mangy.”
Drexy continued, “It’s easy to treat, although we cannot use any magical cure, because of the danger of the mites becoming resistant. I’ll issue you with a course of treatment, and some medicated shampoo. Oh, you’ll have to remove and incinerate any bedding and sanitize the room.”
Izzy looked concerned. “Is it contagious?” As she rubbed her rear leg against her other one.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” She disposed of the gloves into a yellow bin with a, “Contaminated,” sign on it. Donned another pair, and she examined Izzy’s legs.
“You’ve got the signs of a start of them. You’ll have to vacate your bedroom for seven days after sterilizing it, will that be a problem?”
As luck would have it, we had a spare bedroom.
“Right, all done.” She disposed of the gloves, and logged into her screen, pulling up Izzy’s medical records. Typed in some notes before turning to a drugs dispenser that issued our treatment. “You’re both covered under your employer’s health care plan, so if it doesn’t clear up just book a further appointment.”

Izzy, while was not happy, she does get to choose new bedding, so every cloud?”