Daffodil awoke to the smell of Daddeh making breakfast. Under the overpowering smokiness of Daddeh’s bacon and eggs, she detected faint scents of banana and oats. She yawned and wiggled her stiff torso, tensing a bit at the now-familiar aches of old age. She leaned over the edge of her blanket nest to take a few sips from her wall-mounted water bottle.
It was still dark in Daddeh’s bedroom, but if he was making food, it had to already be daylight. Daffodil waited patiently, her mind slowly clearing away the cobwebs of sleep. She’d been sleeping quite a bit more, and eating less too, but the nice mistah in the white coat at the ‘bet-a-win-awian’ had said she was “just getting to be that age,” whatever that meant.
Sure enough, the door soon creaked open, a small amount of light spilling through the crack. Daddeh leaned his head in. His glasses and the big fluff on his face were a comforting and familiar sight to Daffodil. She knew he had another name, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember it, among other things she couldn’t remember anymore.
“Hey sweetie, you awake yet?”
“Gud mownin, Daddeh,” Daffodil rasped. She smiled gently, her tail softly swishing behind her. Daddeh crossed the room and gently lifted Daffodil from her bedding. As he raised her up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror by Daddeh’s bed. Her golden fluff and cream mane had lost their sheen, and the gray patches around her face and in her mane had spread. But on the bright side, the scars on her stumps had faded over the years.
“Hey, I was thinking about taking a walk in the park today. How does that sound?” Daffodil’s tail swishes ever so slightly intensified.
“Daffodiw wuv walkies in da pawk,” she cooed.
“Perfect! Let’s get you some breakfast first.”
“Siwwy Daddeh, Daffodiw nee’ make gud poopies fuwst.” Daddeh smiled and scratched her behind her ears.
“Ah, yes, almost forgot. Let’s get you to the litter box, then.”
Daddeh pulled the fluffy stroller out of the backseat of his sedan and unfolded it. The Fluff-Smart Brand Safety Stroller for Mobility-Challenged Fluffies (patent pending) was originally designed for cats and old dogs, but, with a few bright colors and extra safety precautions, was easily converted into a means of taking pillowed fluffies out of their usual safe-spaces for some enrichment.
Daffodil startled awake as she was lifted out of her fluffy-seat and nestled into the cushioned basket of the stroller. When Daddeh first brought her home, she thought the vroom-vroom munstah was scary enough to make accidental bad poopies in her not-sorry box, but now the munstah seemed quieter, and she would quickly fall asleep on long-enough car rides. Daddeh pulled the mesh see-through cover over the basket, and gave Daffodil a light pat on the rump as she wriggled into a comfortable position.
A small gate stood at the entrance to Greenbriar Park. Being one of only two “Fluffy-Safe Parks” in Atlanta, a chest-high brick fence ran around the four acre property, keeping ‘good’ fluffies in and ‘bad’ fluffies out. Of course, a small feral herd had managed to sneak in after a new groundskeeper left the gate open a few months back, but the majority-hugbox staff had found the smarty to be a cautious leader, rather than an egotistical psychopath, and allowed them to stay as long as they got checked for diseases, and agreed not to approach the domestics. Thus far, the smarty had kept his herd in-line.
As they passed into the open grass field beyond the gate, Daffodil felt the sun warm her fluff, easing the pain in what remained of her joints. Last night’s storm left the autumn earth fragrant with the musky decay of dead leaves. Around her, Daffodil could hear the laughter of fluffies running and playing with their owners and other fluffies. Her sight had grown worse over time, but her eyes could make out that they were walking by a pink fluffy with a multicolored pile nestled on her back, which was lightly chirping as the mummah walked with her human down the cement path that cut through the park. Daffodil’s smile dimmed, and she lost herself in remembering.
She’d had babbehs, once upon a time. In the alleyway, there were three and two. Three and one had come out of her taking forever-sleepies, never having taken their first breath, nor making their first chirps. The other one didn’t last until the next bright-time. Even with both her and her special-friend’s warmth, curled up around the pitiful chirping thing, it had been too small, and the alley too cold. It upset her that she couldn’t remember what colors her alley babbehs were. Neither could she remember the colors of her special friend. He seemed to be a blur in her mind, sometimes sky-blue with an amber mane, sometimes a brick-red with teal mane.
Several bright-times after losing their last babbeh, they’d decided to try again. But the day Daffodil felt the soon-mummah feeling in her tummeh was the last day she saw her special friend. He’d gone out to find nummies, and never returned. After two bright-times, she cried herself hoarse, laying despondently in an overturned microwave box. All she could think about was the horrible ways he could’ve gone forever-sleepies.
But then, she met Bad-Daddeh.
He’d lied to her. Told her he would give her a nice warm safe room to have her tummeh-babies. She’d never lived with a human before, but something in Daffodil’s thinky-place told her that living with a human mummah or daddeh was the bestest thing any fluffy could hope for. How wrong her thinkie-place had been.
Bad-Daddeh had put her in a small room he called a ‘closet.’ It was, admittedly, better than the alley, but there were no toysies, and only a small litter box and bed made out of ragged towels. Her first meal in the closet, the kibble made her super sleepy, and when she woke up, she’d been tied to a table. She didn’t remember much, but Bad-Daddeh had said something about ‘stuff he’d seen on the internet.’ Then he took her leggies. She only remembered screaming. Even years later, she was thankful her thinkie-place had taken away most of those memories.
But there were also things her thinkie-place couldn’t get rid of.
Bad-Daddeh had let Daffodil keep her tummeh-babbehs long enough for them to be talkie-walkie babbehs. She’d gotten to feed them, clean them, teach them about good poopies and peepees (even if she couldn’t show them herself), learned their personalities, and hoped they’d help her find a way out of Bad-Daddeh’s meanie closet.
In her dreams, even now, she saw their faces.
Her 'splorin purple babbeh, panicking and thrashing, his last breath bubbling up to the surface of the jar.
Her brave green babbeh, her face contorted into a visage of unimaginable pain as Bad-Daddeh slowly worked the rolling pin up her body.
And her poor shy brown babbeh, his fate accepted, eyes unwavering from her own, as his tummeh-sketties lay out and exposed to the open air.
It had felt like so many forevers since Bad-Daddeh had left their small bodies out for display, forcing Daffodil to look at them. The closet started to smell not-pretty. And then, a nice lady opened the door. She’d screamed at Bad-Daddeh. Hit him. Told him she was throwing him out of her housie. Told him he could go live with his Daddeh. Daffodil never saw Bad-Daddeh again.
Bad-Daddeh-Mummah had wrapped Daffodil’s babbehs in white paper and taken them away. She told Daffodil she was sorry for what her son had done, but she couldn’t keep a fluffy, and was going to take her to someplace called a shelter. It was a cold place, with meanie-looking metal boxes, and too many fluffies for all the boxes. But at least Daffodil had company. There were other no-leggies fluffies like her, who were put in the same metal box as her. A couple were mean no-leggie smarties, but most were like her- broken, sad, and grateful to just have other fluffies to cuddle with.
And that was where she met Daddeh. He’d come in like all the other humans she’d seen after so many forevers, taking a long look at all the cages, looking at the fluffies inside and asking them questions. When he came to the no-leggie cage, his eyes immediately met hers. He smiled at her. She just smiled back. Not too long after, he was driving her to his housie.
The first night in her new housie, Daffodil had another dream about her foals. Their faces, again. Like usual, she’d woken up crying, thrashing in her bed, screaming about her babbehs going forever sleepies. Daddeh had bolted up from his own bed, laid down next to her, and held her. Even when she made scaredy peepees, he held her. He whispered to her and told her everything was going to be okay. He had been so warm and calm. Even after all the years that had passed, he still held her when she woke from her scary foal dreams.
After a few of the bestest, warmest, and yummiest bright-times she’d ever had, Daddeh took Daffodil to the bet-a-win-awian, who looked closely at her not-leggies. The nice mistah in the white coat had said Bad-Daddeh had “taken a hatchet” to her leggies, but told her he could make her not-leggies feel a little more comfortable while she took a nap.
Even better than making her not-leggies feel better, though, was when Daddeh had brought home some babbehs. They were still small chirpy babbehs, and Daddeh had said that he’d found their mummah nearby on the street, taking forever-sleepies, but they’d been in a fluffpile in a box, shivering and chirping frantically. He said he could take them to someone who could take care of them, but Daffodil had told him about all her forever-sleeping babbehs, and wanted to give her a chance to be a mummah one more time. He’d even give her special kibble to help her miwkies-pwaces make miwkies again, and help sit her up when she needed to feed them.
She’d loved those babbehs. From their little see-pwaces opening, to their first words, to when they found new housies with Daddeh’s friends, those three and one little babbehs, and Daddeh,
were the best thing that ever happened to her.
Daffodil felt Daddeh running his hand along her mane, snapping her out of her remembering. The sky-ball was low in the sky, casting an orange glow across the park. Daddeh had lifted her seat out of the stroller and next to him on a bench. She felt more tired than she ever had. There were less fluffies in the park now, but Daffodil could see a few blurry colors under some bushes nearby. She heard the sound of two different mummah songs, and a few babbehs playing huggie-tag.
Daffodil smiled again. Her babbehs had grown up and found new Mummahs and Daddehs. Her Daddeh would show her pictures of them now and again. Some had found special friends and had their own babbehs. One was helping a small human feel better when he got too scared, as her Daddeh explained.
Daffodil was so very tired. It was starting to get cold as the sky-ball went down. She felt like taking a nap, but something told her it would be a very long one. She rubbed affectionately against Daddeh’s hand as he stroked her.
“Wub 'ou, Daddeh.”
“Love you too, sweet girl.”
“Fank 'ou.”
“For what?”
Daddeh waited for her to answer.
“For what?”
“Daffodil?”
feels good to stretch my writing legs