Disclaimer: I do not own Courage the Cowardly Dog nor do I own any of the characters.

Sick as a Dog

Courage wasn't quite feeling well as he woke up from his deep sleep. He knew he had slept half the morning away, which was something he didn't enjoy, but Courage had trouble falling asleep last night.

His throat was very scratchy — at first he thought it was because he had taken a taste of this new stew Cajun Fox had made for dinner. "Ah La Spi Cé", he called it. The second it touched Courage's taste buds his tongue burst into flames (quite literally). After madly chugging down a whole carton of milk, his mouth felt burnt and he only ate cold things (Katz was even lenient enough to allow Courage to eat more than just one bowl of ice cream that night).

But the pain in his throat now certainly wasn't because of incredibly spicy food. It felt as though Courage had swallowed a cactus, and his nose was stuffed more than it was yesterday. At least he was able to smell then. Now it was like he didn't even have a nose.

Courage sat up, giving the room a minute to stop spinning. He snorted a fruitless sniff as he rubbed the morning crust from his eyes. He wiped his nose, avoiding looking at the greenish-yellow mucous on the pink fur of his arm.

Once he was sure he could stand, Courage got up — dragged himself — out of bed. With a moan and a sniff, he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the tub. Normally he took his bath after breakfast but, seeing that was technically past breakfast time, he made an exception. Courage also felt so…he couldn't exactly put it into words. The best he could come up with was: Blah.

Plain, simple blah.

The pink dog sat in the tub while it started to fill. He had set the temperature to the hottest setting he could stand and sniffed in the steam. Courage sighed with a quiet smile as he started to breathe again, and then leaned against the side of the tub. He found the water to be more relaxing than usual, but wasn't aware his eyes were beginning to close.

After a couple slow blinks he fell asleep.

It's warm. Courage thought in his deep sleep. Really, REALLY warm. And it feels so…nice.

"Cour…wa…Cour…."

He didn't hear the voice calling him. Not until it went from a soft call into a loud —

"COURAGE!"

The tiny dog startled awake, sitting up straight in a tub filled past to the brim with water. He blinked, dumbfounded.

"Courage, darling," said a smooth but obviously surprised voice.

Courage looked over to see Queenie standing in a large puddle of water with her hands on her hips, looking at him with a sternly raised brow.

His ears bent back, feeling small under those pinkish violet eyes of hers.

"How many times have I told you not to fall asleep with the bath tub running?" she scolded.

Queenie went over to the towel rack, practically gliding across the pool of water beneath her feet. Courage never saw the Puddle Queen walk through water, always glide. It was strange the first few weeks when she and the other three once fiends started living in the old farmhouse with him, but — like most of the peculiar things that happened in his life — he got used to it after a while.

But Queenie's gliding was something he found very fascinating. No matter how deep the water would be, she'd slide right over it like ice.

She came back with a towel, lifting Courage out of the tub like a toddler and cradled him to her chest. Then she reached her hand into the water and pulled the plug from the drain.

"You're lucky Katz isn't home to see this, or you would get one mighty earful right…"

Queenie stopped when she noticed that Courage's eyes weren't alight as they normally were. They seemed heavy, as if he hadn't slept in days…

It was then the motherliness in the Puddle Queen came forth as she sat on top of the toilet seat. Setting the wet pooch on her lap, she touched her hand gently against his forehead, but then recoiled almost instantly.

"Oh my, Courage!" Queenie gasped. "You're burning up!"

Courage could only whimper, resting his heavy head against her chest, almost ready to fall asleep right there.

Queenie stood up, cradling him with one arm as she grabbed a wash cloth.

"No wonder you slept in this morning," she muttered, turning on the cold water and running the wash cloth under it.

As soon as it was completely soaked, she squeezed it and placed the cloth on Courage's forehead. Queenie headed downstairs, deciding to deal with the mess on the floor after she took care of Courage. She went into the kitchen and bee-lined for the fridge.

The cool air felt nice to Courage. He watched Queenie rummage through it, pushing aside all the foods Cajun had made this week (they had to buy a bigger fridge because he made food fit for an army). She muttered aloud, asking herself where "they" were.

Courage ignored it, taking in the coolness of the fridge air. He was a heartbeat away from falling asleep again when he heard Queenie go:

"Ah, yes. Here they are."

Courage saw her pull out a bowl of plumbs. His heavy eyes suddenly weren't so heavy anymore as they brightened with excitement.

"You need to eat them cold so your fever can go down, but tonight I'll make your Happy Plumbs. I won't tell Katz if you won't." She promised, giving him a wink.

Courage nodded, putting a finger to his lips, his own promise of absolute silence. And it was one he had every intention of keeping.

Queenie saw his beaming smile and grinned. She always offered to make Happy Plums when little Courage was feeling down…despite Katz's stern protests and cold remarks that she was "spoiling" him. But all Queenie needed to do was shoot a dark glare and flash her fangs at the stone face cat to shut him up. Ironically, after she'd make the plums, Katz complaining would lessen.

Even a stolid feline like him couldn't reject the joy Happy Plums brought to anyone that ate them.

"I'm glad I reminded Katz and the other two to get sour cream while they're at the super market." She said, heading into the living room. "Cajun used the last of it to make dessert last night. I'm not sure what he made, but I didn't trust it. Not after that stew he made for dinner."

Courage nodded in agreement, just thinking back to it made his tongue burn.

Queenie brought him to the one place that was Courage's own little slice of heaven — the old rocking chair. Since his new "guardians" moved in, many things inside the farmhouse had changed. All except the living room. Courage asked for it, and none of them questioned it. The red chair, the rug, the rocking chair and even the TV stayed. Unmoved.

Queenie sat in the rocking chair — Courage embraced the creek it made. He adored that creek with all his heart. He took a plumb out of the bowl and Queenie set it on the table next to them. She gently rocked as he ate it, petting his back with a soft touch and humming a melody that Courage found relaxing. She asked his if he wanted another plumb when he finished, but he shook his head, yawning.

Queenie checked his temperature again and smiled to find it had gone down. She continued to hum, lulling him back to sleep. He was softly snoring within two minutes. Queenie could hear how stuffy his nose was. She sat there, still rocking, trying to figure out what to do.

They had moved in just a few months ago — Queenie couldn't speak for everyone — but she was still adjusting to this incredibly new life style. Luring in clueless humans was child's play compared to taking care of a sick animal, especially one that acted more like a toddler than a dog, for that matter; granted, a very intelligent toddler.

Courage was an odd one. At times he was that of an innocent child: smiling, laughing, and playing in the manner of a human offspring. Other times he was thinking fast and acting fast, like how an adult would. Queenie had only seen Courage act like an actual dog just a few times — he liked chewing on things, especially on an anchor in particular. It was strange, but she didn't ask, seeing how much he enjoyed it. Courage also liked napping on the floor sometimes, something Queenie also found strange, since he had a nice warm bed upstairs all to himself.

She sighed. If only there was a handbook on how to be a proper guardian to strange and abnormal toddler-like dogs….

Queenie fell out of her reverie when she heard talking outside the door.

"Whaat?" Exclaimed a loud voice. "What do ya mean I ain't makin' dinner tonight?"

The door opened and in they walked, all three of them carrying grocery bags. Katz was the first to enter, with Cajun right behind him.

"You're not making dinner tonight. That is what I mean." He told the orange fox, wearing the same narrowed stare like always. "Your stew last night was not only awful, but awfully hot as well. So, I will cook dinner tonight, one that will not set someone's tongue on fire."

"You're crazy as you are stupid!" Cajun snapped, his tail flaring. "I am the best dang cook in this house and you know it! My stew last night was perfection in a pot! And how was I suppose to know the boy's tongue was gonna catch on fire? 'Xcuse me for not having a dang crystal ball at my leisure!"

Le Quack was at the caboose of the line, carrying two bags. He bumped the door closed behind him with his foot.

"If only you're cooking skills were as sharp as your tongue, hoo-hoo-hooo!"

Cajun Fox spun around, meeting the duck face against face.

"You're 'bout one second away from bein' our next Thanksgiving meal, my fowl little friend."

Queenie saw Courage shift. She cupped one of his ears as she hissed:

"Will you nitwits shut up?"

They looked at her and saw Courage cradled in her arm, fast asleep. Katz walked closer. Queenie silently prepared for a long lecture about letting Courage nap before noon. He was so strict about the slightest things, applying them not just to him, but to everyone else as well. He was like a Dictator sometimes.

But Queenie was surprised to find Katz raising a brow at the slumbering Courage. There was a brief flash of concern on his face as he looked up to her.

"Is he alright?" he asked.

Queenie shook her head.

"The poor little dear is sick as a…you know. He was running a high fever. Luckily I brought it down. But now I'm not sure what else to do."

"No problem, sister." Cajun said, stepping forwards to peer at Courage. "I'll just whip up some chicken soup for the boy. That'll have him glowin' with perfect health in no time!"

"It might help a little," she admitted. She looked down at Courage, unable to hide a worried look. "But a fever isn't the only thing he has. He's also congested, which means he could also have a sore throat. And once things like those start, it's not easy getting rid of them. Courage might just have to see the doctor."

Katz's response was almost automatic.

"Absolutely not. Not to that empty headed twit of a doctor."

Queenie rolled her eyes loudly.

"Vindaloo is the only doctor in Nowhere, Katz."

"That's absurd," he said. "Surely there must be another doctor around here."

"We live in a town called 'Nowhere', cuz." Cajun Fox implied as he and Le Quack headed for the kitchen. "This place's only got one of everythin'."

Katz sighed, shaking his head. "I'll think of something. Just give me a few minutes."

He started for the kitchen. Queenie stopped him, momentarily, by saying:

"We take him to Vindaloo if he gets any worse."

Katz said nothing. He rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. It was a final statement, one which she would go through with. And she would do it with or without them — whatever was best for Courage.

Queenie sat back down in the rocking chair. As she rocked back and forth, gently rubbing Courage's back. It was something she picked up when she and the boys took Courage for a walk through the park one day and studied the way a mortal mother comforted her helplessly sobbing offspring after he fell to the ground and hurt his knee. She had held him close to her chest as he cried loudly, rubbing his back with such tenderness that only a loving parent would possess.

Her heart ached when he made another miserable moan. His voice cracked in the middle and the rest of the moan came out in a strained hoarse.

Queenie had never gotten sick once in her long life — only rare stomach aches. But those were only caused by the flesh she'd consume. Every man or woman she devoured had a distinct flavor depending on who they were. The rotten ones always left a bad after taste in her mouth, and gave her a stomach ache, as well. But illnesses such as runny noses or sore throats were a mystery to her. She didn't know the first thing about treating them.

If I had a burning in my throat, she thought, trying to imagine herself in Courage's condition, I would want something cold to ease it.

Queenie went into the kitchen. Upon opening the door, she stopped and gaped at the strange sight before her.

The kitchen had been given a few new additions, in which certainly didn't belong. A tall, metal lamp with an adjustable neck stood beside the table, which had a pure white sheet spread over it. On the counter was a large medical back. Queenie's mouth dropped when she saw the jagged end of a saw and a knife sticking out of it. And newspapers were spread all over the floor.

Cajun was busy at the stove making the soup while Katz and Le Quack moved around placing more newspapers on the floor.

Queenie blinked.

"Do I even want to know what's going on?" she asked.

"We are preparing for le patient." Le Quack answered, standing up and grabbing the medical bag.

He put his wing in it — a second later he pulled it back out wearing a yellow rubber glove.

"Now, put le patient on the table so that I may"— he then pulled out a sharp, oversized carving knife — "diagnose his illness. Hoo-hoo-hoo!"

Courage lazily woke up at the same moment to watch the duck pull out the knife. He forgot all about his poor health as he shrieked, his pink fur lifting in fear. He dove behind Queenie's arms, clinging to her back. He hid under the cover of her long hair, shaking with a teeth-chattering shake.

Normally, Queenie would pry him off and tell him he was slightly overreacting, but this time she said nothing against it. Courage's reaction to a sight so terrifying was indeed the most logical reaction. Even she drew back in trepidation.

Then she threw a stone-cold glare at Katz.

"Are you serious?" she demanded. "You would prefer this maniac over the doctor?"

Katz watched her with narrow, unblinking yellow orbs as he set one last sheet of newspaper on the kitchen floor.

"That 'doctor' is a maniac." He dismissed, using the term doctor with slight disdain. "I trust Le Quack more with the boy than I do with that irresponsible representation of medical achievement."

"That 'irresponsible representation of medical achievement' would at least know what Courage is sick with without sawing his skull open."

Katz stood up, groaning with an eye roll. "Stop overreacting —"

"Do not say I am overreacting!" Queenie snapped, stomping forward. She met Katz face to face, glaring at him with bright colored daggers. "I only want what is best for Courage, and what is best for Courage is taking him to Doctor Vindaloo — a real doctor."

Katz simply crossed his arms. He raised a brow at the Queen of the Puddle, and instantly Cajun and Le Quack took a few steps back. They knew that was a sign to keep a safe distance away when he and Queenie started going at it…

"Would you stop being an overprotective mother for one second and listen to reason?" Katz evenly retorted. "All that quack of a doctor is going to do is say we have nothing to worry about then assure us that we return home without any sort of medicine for the boy's illness. Would you rather have that happen?"

Queenie snapped again, crossing her arms as well. "But you're alright with an even bigger maniac diagnosing Courage?"

"At least he would tell us what kind of medicine the boy needed."

"Yes," she sarcastically agreed, "at the price of possibly cutting him open and sewing him shut!"

The two were too busy arguing to notice Courage still cowering underneath Queenie's hair. He didn't like it when they argued. Eustace and Muriel never fought as much as Katz and Queenie did. Although he knew they both just wanted to find a way for him to get better, did they really need to fight over it? Eustace and Muriel would at least come to an agreement on something, but only after they stopped raising their voices and actually listened to the things the other had to say.

Queenie and Katz were like hot oil and water with each other. He wasn't sure who was which, but they were.

Then Courage felt a tapping on his shoulder. He poked his head out from Queenie's hair and saw Cajun holding a steaming bowl of warm chicken soup.

"It's safer with us," he said, taking Courage and placing him at the table. He handed him the soup and a spoon.

Le Quack sat at the other end with his own bowl, watching Katz and Queenie go at it. Cajun leaned against the side and watched them with him.

"You don't want to do it because you think you're ideas are better than mine!" Queenie accused, jabbing Katz's chest with a finger.

But the red cat was unflinching and unfazed, as always.

"Interesting, you've gone from overreacting to ridiculous less than one minute. That's a new record, I believe."

Queenie could feel her bottom jaw start to jag out and her teeth get sharp. One hand tensed into a fist. Oh, how she would relish in dragging this condescending hairball down to into the deepest pit within a puddle and leave him there. It would be interesting to see if all cats really had nine lives. She would gladly drown a few out of him!

"'Xcuse me, ya guys. Got a second?"

Katz and Queenie turned to Cajun.

"Since your lil tussle is about Courage, how 'bout we ask what Courage wants to do?"

Both Queenie and Katz blinked in shock. They glanced towards Courage, who was mid-slurp of a noodle when he noticed everything got quiet.

He looked around, the noodle dangling from his mouth, and found everyone staring at him. Courage slowly and quietly slurped the noodle and swallowed, and then nervously glanced at his four guardians.

"Go on, Courage…" Queenie gently urged, inwardly shocked at herself for not even thinking of this. "Tell us what you want to do, darling."

"Yes," Katz said slowly, silently amazed by the same fact she had realized. "Tell us: Would you like to go to the doctor, or would you rather stay home and let…let us take care of you?"

"…."

Courage was silent as he considered his two options, shifting his stare to visit every single pair of eyes watching him. But, honestly, it wasn't a difficult decision to make.

"If-If no one would mind…" the bashful pooch started.

Everyone seemed to lean in closer, obviously very concerned about his decision. All four of them hoped for the same one: That he would ask to stay home so they could help him get better.

It might not have been a big deal to Courage, but it was something gigantic to them. Guardians were supposed to take care of their ward, whether they were sick or not — it didn't matter. They knew they weren't perfect, some would even say they were the worst possible choice of guardianship, given their pasts and personalities. But Courage wanted them to be his guardians after both Muriel and Eustace passed unexpectedly. (He was better off with them than he was with his originally intended guardian — Eustace's mother.)

None of them had expected to become the dog's guardian one by one, but he gave them the one thing they never truly had in the past — a haven. Courage had looked past all his unpleasant experiences with the four, past the bad they had done and offered them a home they could call their own. A place where they knew they would feel safe — a place where they would have a true family.

For him to choose them over a doctor (especially one like Vindaloo) was a sign that he proffered their ideas for a few remedies rather than Vindaloo's. That he trusted them to find some; that he believed they could.

Courage paused, noticing them practically on the edge of their seats. He gulped — wincing when he felt a shot of pain in his tender throat — and finally said:

"I want…to stay here."

Everyone blinked, and then they sighed simultaneously, relieved enough to breathe again.

"Alright then, Katz," Queenie said, turning back to him, "he's not going. So…let's all help him get better. Any ideas? Preferably not the first…."

Katz sighed again, thinking his first idea may have been a tad extreme. Of course, he would never admit it (aloud).

"I'll make him some tea that can soothe his throat." He offered, looking towards Courage. "It will taste a tad bitter, but your throat will feel much better. So I expect you to drink it all."

Courage nodded affirmatively. He had no argument. Courage badly wanted his sore throat to go away, even if just for a while.

"You got sour cream like I asked?" Queenie inquired to Katz.

He nodded.

"Good." She smiled. And left it at that. But not without giving Courage a promising wink.

He giggled, like the excited toddler he had a tendency to be.

Katz glanced between the two, unblinking. He turned towards to cupboards to hide an eye roll as he grabbed another pot to make the tea.

Queenie and the other two boys headed to the living room and made themselves comfortable. They all gathered around and started watching TV. Courage's nose started bothering him in the middle of one of his favorite programs. He tried not to sniff so loud, not wanting to bother the others. It was difficult not to, since his nose was dripping like a faucet. Wiping it made Courage want to gag but he knew he didn't have that much of a choice.

"Little doggie," whispered Le Quack, "I know a trick for stuffed noses. It is very simple."

Courage couldn't help but give the duck a slightly suspicious look.

"I promise it does not involve any sharp objects…unless you are asking for any?"

The pink dog immediately shook his head.

"Mon trick to clear a stuffy nose is to simply press your finger against the space between your eyes"— Le Quack demonstrated as he explained, and Courage mimicked —"then press your tongue to le roof of your mouth."

He did as told…and within a minute he started to be able to breathe through his nostrils. He beamed a smile at Le Quack.

"Hoo-hoo! I may not be a doctor but what I lack with a medical degree, I make up for with facts about body control."

Courage held the odd pose, until Katz came in a few minutes later with the tea. When Courage took it he gagged and made a face at the smell. He looked up at Katz, who was looking down at him with a raised brow.

Without batting an eye Courage took a sip. He tried not to gag from the bitter taste. Only when he turned to find a spot to sit did Courage make a disgust face from the bitterness rolling around his taste buds.

It took many sips for his tongue to get used to the taste. His throat started to feel much better. It was the only good thing about the tea. Courage chugged it down.

He held the empty cup up to Katz with a smile.

Kats assured him there was much more where that came from in case his throat started bothering him again, and Courage's smile wavered slightly. Great, there was more bitter tea…

Time passed, dinner came and went. Then Queenie started on the Happy Plumbs. Courage happily helped by placing an even amount of sour cream into the cups, trying to, at least. Somehow when he'd get three of them even, one cup always had too little. Then he would fix it, and suddenly one would have too much.

"It's alright, Courage." Queenie assured. "They don't have to have an exact amount. Besides, Katz isn't that fond of sour cream. So the cup that doesn't have a lot can be his."

Courage was grateful to hear that. He was never really sure if Katz liked sour cream on his plumbs or not, considering that he wasn't a very expressive person. And he never complained about the cream in the first place.

Queenie called the boys to the table as Courage placed the four cups in order. He kept the cup with the biggest topping to himself. Hey, first come, first serve.

The one thing Happy Plumbs always guaranteed was smiles, and almost everyone at the table had one on their faces (Courage knew Katz smiled on the inside). Everyone conversed peacefully, all agreeing on the same things and cracking jokes. It wasn't something that happened often, given that there were four extremely different personalities at the table. Clashing was to be expected from his four guardians, but at the end of the day they knew they were still a family.

An odd one, but still a family.

Courage yawned, feeling a drowsiness settling in. It was the same one from this afternoon, he could tell because his eyes felt heavy. Not one of his guardians overlooked his tired expression.

"That might be from the tea." Katz said, leaning comfortably in his chair. "It helps with sore throats and trouble with sleep."

"The little guy needs rest anyways." Cajun admitted as he gently ruffled the top of Courage's head.

"Yes, sleep is good for a sick body." Le Quack added, once again stating another medical fact. "The more rest you get, the brighter your health will become."

"And you certainly need that." Queenie agreed, as she got up and scooped Courage into her arms.

The boys wished him a good rest before Queenie took his upstairs into his room. She gently set him in his bed and tucked him in. Then she stroked the side of his face, giving him a warm smile.

"Sleep well, Courage-darling."

Courage smiled back, and then he turned over, snuggling into his soft pillow.

Queenie quietly excited the room, softly closing the door behind her. She sighed with relief.

"You think today went well?"

She looked over to see Katz standing with his back against the wall. His arms were crossed, and he stared at the wall before him with an unblinking stare. She saw his tail smoothly moving back and forth.

"Yes," she answered. "I mean…not too bad for our first try, don't you agree?"

"Well, the boy's still alive. So we did some good for him."

"Oh, come one, Katz." Queenie said. "We did very good. All of us. He probably never would have fallen asleep this easily if you didn't make that tea."

He momentarily paused.

"…He might have actually needed to go to that quack of a doctor if you hadn't caught his fever early and brought it down. That was very…brilliant thinking on your part."

He gave her a thoughtful glance before looking back at the wall.

Queenie paused, giving Katz her own unblinking stare. Did he…did Katz just praise her?

"Thank you…" she tried not to let her surprise show in her tone. It was indeed something to be amazed at. Katz had never praised anyone since moving into the farmhouse, mainly because some of the things that went on in here was under his control. So he never really saw the point in praises and compliments when everything around here ran off his ideas.

This was the first time he seemed to willingly spare one.

Most of all, he didn't say it in a condescending manner. Katz genuinely meant every single word…

Then she awkwardly cleared her throat, realizing a silence had fallen.

"By the way…the bathroom floor is a tad wet —"

He gave her a sarcastic look. "If that flood is your idea of a tad, I cringe at thinking what you believe a mess is."

"And the one cleaning it up is…?"

"The loser to rock-paper-scissors."

Author's Note: This was just an idea I got a while ago, about Courage having a few old but changed enemies as his guardians after Eustace and Muriel pass away. Be sure to leave a review if you like, and I just might do a few more Courage the Cowardly Dog one-shots :) Thank you