My submission for this month’s theme!
Back when I was in college, the students in my program had a reputation for being the most depressed people on campus. At some point I noticed I wasn’t as doom-and-gloom as my peers were, and I realized it was because I had something that they didn’t. And that is what this story is about!
Nightshade was a “difficult” fluffy.
Matte black fur with a matte black mane, curled up shyly in the corner of his pen, the perfect dorm pet for a witchy college student on her first year of a sociology degree.
By all accounts, she did everything right. He was diligently litterbox trained. He was fed kibble with the occasional sketti treat, he was socialized well with both humans and some of the other fluffies that students kept as pets. But he wasn’t a particularly affectionate fluffy. Perhaps there wasn’t anything wrong with that, but perhaps it was what his owner needed him to be.
The TV was always on, flickering through hours of YouTube essays on things Nightshade didn’t really understand. The images were dark, the music crackled through the speakers in gloomy, bitter minor keys. The voices were usually somber, but sometimes there was yelling. He would sit at his owner’s side, watching as the screen would cut to images of blurry crowds, the dizzying backdrop of fancy men standing at podiums. The men said things that would make his owner cry. She would invite other people over and they would cry too. Sometimes there were days of rallied excitement and direction, and everyone would leave. They would come back, proud and powerful, but that feeling seemed to wither. And his owner would cry again.
He tried his best to comfort her. He would lay on her thighs and be a soft thing to pet, but he never knew what to say. He didn’t really know how to cuddle or hug her, or when he was supposed to. One day, he decided to ask,
“Mummah? Nightshade can hewp mummah? Wat can Nightshade do?”*
She sniffed and wiped the tears away.
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“NIghtshade am bad fwuffy?” he asked himself, “why can Nightshade no hewp mummah?” Why does mummah hab so many heawt-huwties?
His owner come home from class and flop face down into the bed, bawling. Nightshade would cautiously crawl under her arms, and she would grab and squeeze him, telling him how much she loved him. But the crying wouldn’t stop.
The voices from her phone echoed the same feelings, over and over -
We’re cooked.
We’re fucked.
We’re doomed.
Anger began to swell up in Nightshade’s little body. Something was wrong. Something he didn’t understand.
“Mummah? Why aw yu so sad aww da time?”
In the throes of her feelings, and momentarily overestimating a fluffy’s capacity to understand the world around him, she told him. She told him everything. She told him about the air, about the oceans, about dried up lakes and dead whales and how the scary men on the TV wanted mummah to go fowevah-sweepies. She told him about dead friends and food that was too expensive and the color red. There was so much to be afraid of, and so little that his mummah could do about it. That there was nothing he could do about it.
Nightshade began to throw tantrums. He would leap onto Mummah’s belly when she laid on her back and knock the phone out of her hands. He began pulling the plugs to the TV and chewing on the wires. He would knock her textbooks over. When mummah would grab him and put him in the time-out sorry box, he would screech -
“NIGHTSHADE WANNA HEWP! WANNA HEWP!!!”
The anger was too much. It rattled through every bone in his body, turning his vision red and every object in his vicinity into a target for destruction. He would tear up boxes and smash his hooves in the litterbox, kicking soiled clumps of litter all over the place. After a bout of violence, he would crash, overrun by a sudden feeling of stillness. A heavy, heavy stone lying on the floor surrounded by his rage, overwhelmed by the thought - “there’s nothing you can do.”
Eventually, it was just too much to handle.
His owner brought Nightshade to a park. Like usual, she was sad, but it seemed to be for a different reason. She sat the fluffy on her lap and pet him.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yes mummah.”
“I really, really love you. But…I can’t keep you in my dorm room anymore.”
Nightshade’s stomach dropped, and tears began welling up in his eyes.
“Mummah can’t hab Nightshade? Why?? Nightshade am bad fwuffy??”
“No! No. It’s just, with my studies, and everything else going on, I can’t give you as much attention as you need.” She took a deep breath.
“So, I found you a new person for you to stay with, okay? I made sure it was a really good home.”
“No! No mummah!! Don WANNA go tu new housie! Don WANNA!!” He flung his hooves around, screeching. His owner sniffled and hugged him closer.
“I know, I know. I’m not saying goodbye forever, I promise. But…this is how you can help me.”
Nighshade looked up at his mummah with big wet red eyes, snot dribbling from his nose and his fur absolutely stained with tears.
“N…nightshade can hewp mummah?”
“Yes, you can help mummah. You can help mummah by being a really good fluffy for your new daddeh, okay? That will make me very happy.”
She wiped his tears away with her sleeve. He held onto her hand, sniffling.
“But…Nightshade no wan new daddeh…Nightshade wan mummah…wanna hewp mummah diwwent way…”
“I know you do. But I don’t think you know how to help me. And that’s okay!”
He cried quietly, rubbing his hooves against his eyes while his mummah turned his head to look at an man approaching the bench where they were sitting.
“Are you Heather?”
“Yes, um, Jackson?”
“Yes! It’s very nice to meet you. And this must be little Nightshade.”
Nightshade looked at the man. He was older, maybe in his fifties, bald with a comically long salt and pepper beard twirling down underneath a calm, sweet smile. He was wearing a classic red flannel and torn up work jeans, looking a little bit like a lumberjack. He bent down and held a wrinkly, calloused hand out to Nightshade. The fluffy gave an apprehensive sniff, but clung to his mummah.
The two humans began talking.
“…Yeah, he was really good when he was a foal but, I dunno, he just started acting out recently, I think because of how stressed I’ve been. He’s been getting really upset and destroying boxes and fucking with his litter. I just can’t keep up with it, and I feel like he probably needs some more space.”
“Nightshade am upset, can’t hewp mummah…” the fluffy muttered into her shirt, “Nightshade don want scawy mistahs to huwt mummah…don know wat du…das why Nightshade so angwy…” The two humans exchanged knowing looks. The man sighed and put his hands in his pockets, rolling on his heels.
“Maybe some more space, but maybe he just needs to feel useful.”
“Yeah, yeah that’s also what I was thinking when I saw your post. I just…ugh. I mean, you know how it is right now. I’m not going to stop feeling this way, and I don’t think he can handle it. I feel bad saying this, but I was hoping he was going to be one of those fluffies that was always happy and cuddly and…I guess just kind of dumb? I had no idea he was paying so much attention to what I was watching and doing.”
“Yeah, sometimes they’re smarter than we think.”
His owner stood up with a sigh and placed Nightshade on the ground in front of the man, who knelt next to him and began petting him. For such a rough set of hands, the touch was warm and gentle.
“So, you’re majoring in sociology, right?”
“Yep. You went here too, right?”
“I did! It graduated thirty years ago or something. I did environmental science, and uh, I helped design the food forest that’s on campus.”
“Oh shit, you did? I go there all the time! It feeds a lot of people.”
“Oh, my goodness, you have no idea how happy that makes me to hear. Y’know, when I was going here for environmental science, a lot of the kids in my program had the reputation for being, uh, real doom-and-gloom about everything. I noticed I wasn’t as sad as they were, and I figured it was because I had something really tangible I can focus my energy on, where I could really see my impact.”
“Huh, I never thought about that. I’ve been trying to go to protests on campus, but it really doesn’t feel like anything is happening.”
“I hear you. It’s really hard. But, it’s good to have something you can see the physical outcome of. Even if its art or something.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I probably just need to spend time on a fucking hobby or something.”
They both looked down at the fluffy, who had calmed down and was looking up with a gentle curiosity. There was a sharp feeling inside him that did not want to leave, but this new daddeh seemed like a good daddeh, and he wanted nothing more than to help his mummah.
“So, um…I can visit him, right?”
“Absolutely. I live about an hour west. And if you want, I can send you photos every once in a while.”
“Ohmygosh, I would love that so much, thank you.”
She picked Nightshade up and gave him a big squeeze.
“You’re helping mummah so much Nightshade. You’re going to go to a real good home, and I think you’re going to have so much fun.”
“And you’re going to help a lot more than your mummah, Nightshade! You’re going to help me, and you’re going to help a bunch of other people too.”
Nightshade cocked his head.
“Nightshade is gonna hewp wots of peepeww?”
“Yes, you are, and your new daddeh is going to make sure that you do!”
The younger woman put the fluffy down and handed the leash to the man.
“Um…oh, and one more thing, uh, Jackson. I appreciate all of this but I wanted to say that it’s also, um…nice, I guess, to see that we can, y’know, grow up.”
The older man gave her a kind, weathered grin, patted her on the shoulder, then began to walk away.
“Goodbye, Nightshade! Mummah loves you!”
“Nightshade wubs mummah too! Nighshade wiww be a gud fwuffy! Wiww hewp mummah wots an wots!”
The pair walked for a little while in silence. It was fall, there was a cool breeze and orange leaves were twirling down onto the ground. Nightshade had been on short walks around campus, but hadn’t really seen unmanicured nature before. They were in a valley surrounded by mountains blanketed in aspen groves, slowly turning every direction into a show of brilliant orange.
“New daddeh?” Nightshade eventually asked.
“Yes?”
“Daddeh said Nightshade is gonna hewp peepeww.”
“That’s right. You are. Your mummah told me that you were feeling helpless.”
"Mummah towd Nightshade aww about the mean mistahs and the big wawa animaws dat aw in twouble. And, and she towd me about how da air is bad and how much gawbage dere is. Da wowd seems to hab so many meanies. Nightshade wana hewp! But mummah always had da biggest heawt-huwties, no mattah wat Nightshade du. "
“Well, how do you feel about helping people eat?”
“Hewp people eat? How Nightshade hewp peepew eat?”
“By growing food! You’re gonna be my little gardening buddy.”
“Gawdening? Wike gwowing nummies in da gwound?”
“Exactly. It’s really fun, and at the end, you get to see all the food that you helped make, and all the people eating your food. You also get to help all the important bugs, like butterflies and bees, eat too.”
Nightshade looked up at him with some sense of bewildered amazement. Mummah had talked about not having enough money to eat sometimes. Would he help Mummah eat?
“It’s fall, so when we get to my house, you’re gonna help me dig up a bunch of things. In the winter, you get to help me with a bunch of different projects, and then in the spring, that’s when we can plant seeds!”
The pair walked along a while more before getting on a bus. Nightshade had never been on a bus before. He peeked through the window, watching the fields and mountains and various small towns rush by, a mosaic of things that his mummah had talked about wanting to protect. His new daddeh talked about it too, pointing out important rives and lakes, talking about how later in the winter daddeh would need the fluffy’s help to remove trash.
It was a short walk from the end of their bus ride to a quaint house, with a large compact garden visible from the front yard, rows of galvanized steel beds with cascading waves of PVC pipes and hog fence trellises. The inside of the house wasn’t really that much bigger than mummah’s dorm, but the cold angled interior of cheap bedframes, particleboard desks, and a shit microwave was replaced with a full and slightly chaotic array of sturdy old wooden furniture. The walls were full of eclectic art and mirrors, and the ground was covered in soft colorful rugs. Nightshade looked around with awe. He missed mMmmah, but there was a quiet happiness here that he had never seen before.
Daddeh showed him around and pointed to a doggy door.
“You know how to use a litterbox, right?”
“Yes daddeh.”
“Well, I have a litterbox, but the first thing you can do to help me is actually go to the bathroom outside. Your poop will make my soil better.”
“Weawwy?” Nightshade asked, cocking his head.
“Yes, ‘weawwy.’ A better soil means better plants. Better plants means better food!”
Nightshade was stunned. He didn’t really believe Daddeh, but he had no reason not to either. There was an edge of cynicism in the back of his tiny brain, but he really didn’t know enough to be pessimistic about anything. He just wanted to hewp.
“Aww dere any ober fwuffies here, mistah?” Daddeh gave a sad smile.
“There used to be. My old fluffy, Gibson, passed away last year.”
“Oh. Nightshade sowwy Daddeh.”
“It’s okay. He was a very good garden helper, and as I get older, gardening is getting harder and harder to do. That’s why I was looking for fluffies like you to help me again.”
Nightshade nodded. He peeked outside into the garden. He didn’t really understand what he was going to do, but it didn’t seem so hard.
Night fell, and daddeh had began to prepare the bed.
“Alright Nightshade, it’s bed time. Do you want to come up here and cuddle with me?”
“Um…Daddeh…Nightshade don weally wike cuddews. Was otay cuddiwing wif Mummah, but didin weawwy wike it.” The man smiled.
“That’s okay, Nightshade. You don’t have to cuddle if you don’t want to. Hold on…”
Daddeh opened a closet and pulled a large grey dog bed out.
“This is Gibson’s old bed. You can sleep in it if you like.”
That night, nestled in the soft grey bed, Nightshade dreamt that he was feeding his Mummah a big, magical fruit that solved all of the world’s hurties.
After a breakfast of skettis and kibble, Nightshade was brought outside with daddeh to work. He was instructed to use his little hooves to dig up potatoes, carrots, and sunchokes. Don’t worry about the worms, daddeh said, they’re here to help grow food too.
Nightshade found himself surprisingly unbothered by the presence of centipedes and spiders and other creepy-crawlies, perhaps because his mummah had clothes and tattoos of them They skittered away, and he simply blinked, continuing to dig and pull out the tubers, placing them in a little wicker basket.
The soil was dark and rich and smelled of whole, earthy humus that rose with each jab at the dirt. So many colors emerged from it - red potatoes, purple carrots, yellow sunchokes. Wavering on the edges of the property were spindly pink and white cosmos flowers. Daddeh explained that he was also an artist, and that he loved bringing more color to the world.
After filling up the basket, Nightshade trotted over to daddeh with it in his mouth and a bounce in his step.
“Daddeh! Daddeh! Nishshade gosh sho many veshables!”
“Good job Nightshade! You’re already such a great garden buddy. You want to know something cool?”
Daddeh picked up one of the potatoes and grabbed a tomato from a bush he was trimming.
“Did you know that these two plants are in the same family?”
“Wike…dey are bruddah and sistah?”
“Yes! You want to know what that family is called?”
“What daddeh?”
“The nightshade family!”
Nightshade blinked.
“The tomatow and potatow aw my bruddah and sistah?”
“Heh, no silly. You’re named after a plant called nightshade, and that plant is related to tomatoes and potatoes.”
“Oh, waow!” He giggled.
It was noon when Daddeh told him to bring all the vegetables inside.
“We’re going to make a curry,” he said, “and we’re going to bring it to a shelter tonight.”
“A fwuffy shewtah?”
“Ah, no. A human shelter.”
“Hoomans hab shewtahs?”
“Yes - uh, no, not in the way you’re thinking about it. It’s a place for humans without housies, or humans with bad housies, to go and be safe for the night.”
“Oh, otay daddeh. Aw we hewping da peepeww eat?”
“Yes we are.”
Nightshade’s eyes lit up, and he stood obediently at his new daddeh’s side as he cooked the meal.
“Can Nightshade hewp daddy mowe?”
“Oh, you’ve done so much today, Nightshade. I don’t think you can help me with the cooking itself.”
“But Nightshade wanna hewp!” The fluffy jumped up and down at daddeh’s legs. The man chuckled and picked him up.
“I know you wanna help. But sometimes you need to relax, okay? You have already helped me so much.”
Nightshade huffed a little bit.
“Pwomise?”
“I promise. Now, just relax, you’re going to help me more later when we go to the shelter.”
The shelter was an innocuous building in the corner of the sleepy mountain town Daddeh lived in. The sign read “The Dorothy Project,” and there were a number of subtle rainbow flyers dotting the entryway, which increased with intensity as the pair entered the foyer. When Nightshade walked in, bouncing along at Daddeh’s side, he heard a cacophony of excited gasps
“A fluffy!” A group of disheveled teenagers, not much younger than Mummah, rushed to greet him and daddeh.
“Hey kids. This is Nightshade. You can pet him, but he doesn’t really liked being hugged.” The teens nodded and knelt by Nightshade. Some of them kind of looked like Mummah - tatted, pierced, wearing black hoodies or dresses and flashy makeup. There were colorful flags on the walls, the same pastel colors that were in Mummah’s room. Some of them looked like they had been crying recently, just like Mummah did too. But at this very moment, there was only curiosity and excitement.
Daddeh put the curry on the table.
“My new little garden buddy here helped me make this curry. We spent all morning harvesting the veggies for this.”
“Oh wow, you helped Mr. V harvest these?” One kid said, giving Nightshade a gentle pet on his head. The fluffy puffed up proudly.
“Nightshade did hewp! Hewped dig up da vegables! Daddeh said Nightshade would hewp peepeww eat!”
“Thank you Mr V! And thank you Nightshade! We haven’t been able to get a lot of vegetables from the food bank recently. I bet its going to be delicious.”
Nightshade sat next to Daddeh at the table, and he was given his own little bowl of curry. He listened contentedly to the laughter of people that Daddeh said didn’t have housies, or had bad housies.
Suddenly, he felt the warmth of the sun in his chest, and he became lost in the feeling that he made the world’s heawt-huwties hurt a little bit less.