This was originally written as part of “New Lives for Litter Pals Part 2.” But I separated it because this part ended up being quite long.
As a recap, former-enfie-pal-turned-composter Malva just had her foals. She birthed seven into the shit pile, but was only given six - her downstairs neighbor Caramel ended up effectively stealing one.
It’s been a little bit since the foals have been born, and our narrator needs to pillow them before they open their eyes and can witness the horror of being amputated. Doesn’t stop it from being a terrible ordeal for the poor chirpies.
My work load for the composter pillows increased quite a bit. I had to wipe down the plastic box each day. I tried to clean the foals, but Malva insisted on giving them “wickie cleanies,” so I held them up for her for a couple minutes at a time, until Olive also volunteered to give “wickie cleanies.” It made the process a bit more efficient.
Caramel’s “baby” seemed to be doing fine, and all I had to do was periodically fill up a bottle with formula and let Caramel guide the foal to it. It was definitely disabled, it moved much more slowly and cried much more than the others, but Caramel seemed patient and diligent.
A couple weeks in, I was refilling the food scraps, and I watched the foals scramble around, moving with much greater mobility. It wouldn’t be long before their eyes opened and they started to talk, which would be a problem. I had to remove their legs and neuter them soon, ideally before their eyes opened to save them distress. But, there’s no doubt that doing this would make it hard for them to drink their milkies from Malva.
After bouncing around a couple silly ideas, including putting the amputated foals on wheels for them to shimmy around, I decided it wouldn’t be terribly inconvenient or that expensive to simply strap bottles to them until they were big enough eat solid food. Sure, they wouldn’t be able to cuddle with their mummah, but she’d be able to see them and talk to them. That’s good, right? Plus, I could just situate them over the compost, making them useful to me nice and early, and I could stop having to clean the plastic every damn day.
To prevent Malva from throwing a fit, I opened the box at night and gently grabbed the chirpies while they were sleeping. I thought about grabbing Caramel’s as well, but I figured it wasn’t really that important to pillow it.
I brought the chirpies inside and placed them all in my bathtub. Feeling the cold porcelain, they all woke up and started flopping and sliding around, chirping, squealing, babbling and reaching out for their mother. I placed a metal tray on my toilet, which had some rubbing alcohol, a razor, cotton swabs, lidocaine, nitrile gloves, a couple disposable scalpels, a couple disposable suture kits, a set of elastrator pliers and bands, and small hemostatic clips I picked up from the medical surplus. I pulled up the guide on amputation I got from the fluffy forum on my phone.
How to Amputate Fluffy Foals and Adults - a DIY Guide by PillowPrincess
FOALS:
There are many benefits to pillowing a fluffy foal, especially before their eyes open and they develop recognizable speech. They are unlikely to remember the procedure, minimizing risk of trauma or suicidal inclinations, although they may still suffer from the social ostracization that comes with being pillowed.
Fluffy foals are generally easier to amputate than adult fluffies. Since pillowing rarely involves consideration of prosthetic limbs, you do not have to be as careful about leaving a sufficient amount of tissue to cushion a prosthetic. That said, keep in mind that while fluffies have a broader range of movement in their limbs than their true equine counterparts, they cannot move their shoulders fully laterally - meaning that depending on where you amputate, the foal may still be left with a weight-bearing nub, and this can lead to complications later if an insufficient amount of tissue is left.
A true pillowing involves the fluffy resting on its chest and stomach only. This can be achieved with either a transhumeral and transfemoral amputation, or through a shoulder and hip disarticulation. While a transhumeral/transfemoral quadrupedal amputation in this case is simpler, shoulder and hip disarticulation is often performed for aesthetic purposes, as it removes any “nubs,” leading to a more “streamlined” look. It is possible, albeit unlikely, for a fluffy with a transhumeral/transfemoral amputation to move, but may be able to push itself away from walls or other fluffies with the small amount of tissue afforded with that surgery.
This guide will cover a very simple transhumeral and transfemoral amputation that is done for practical uses (such as in a farm setting) with efficiency in mind and without any aesthetic considerations. For a more detailed guide, check out my page.
STEP 1: Grip the forelimb and feel for the humerus. Feel for the protrusions of the lateral epicondyle and the ulna, this is the fluffy’s elbow joint. Shave an inch of fur around this area. Rinse or wipe down the area. While many fluffy owners and surgeons skip the shaving step, this will significantly decrease the risk of abscesses developing from stray hairs.
“Alright,” I said. I grabbed the first foal, a minty green one, and placed him in my sink, which I had cleaned beforehand. He squeaked and let out a very gentle cry. I grabbed his left arm, then took a razor and shaved around his arm. He struggled a bit, and squeaked in surprise when I turned the sink on for a second. I figured it would be a time saver to shave the other limbs at that time, so I did.
STEP 2: If desired, apply topical anesthetic to each of the foal’s limbs, and wait several minutes. Unlike many small animals, fluffy foals are unlikely to suffer cardiac arrest from fear or pain. However, anesthetic may make the fluffy easier to handle, even if the fluffy is experiencing the sensation of its limb being removed. If you are amputating multiple fluffies, it is acceptable to apply the anesthetic at the same time. Make sure that the anesthetic penetrates the skin through the fur.
I gloved up, grabbed the lidocaine, and began massaging the cream onto each of his arms, right above the elbow. He chirped, enjoying the touching, but started crying the second I stopped. I went into the bathtub and applied the cream to the other five, then waited a couple minutes. The green foal, alone, started to cry and suckle on its hoof.
STEP 3: Using a cotton swab, prepare the first limb with rubbing alcohol.
I grabbed the foal’s front left limb and rubbed the area above his elbow will alcohol. He cried, probably feeling the alcohol sting his sensitive and exposed skin.
STEP 4: Once again grip the forelimb and find the lateral epicondyle and the ulna. While small, both of these features are prominent in fluffies, and the tendons between the humerus and ulna should be easy to feel. Carefully cut below the lateral epicondyle and make a curving motion, following the lines of the ulna. Nearing the end of the cut, move downward and leave a piece of skin intact that can be folded over the wound. In a foal, it is simple to do this one motion.
I unwrapped the disposable scalpel and took a deep breath. His body was so tiny, his arm barely as wide as a pretzel stick, but I could feel the bones and tendons just enough. I felt the blade slip slowly through the skin, which was as thin as turkey skin. The foal cried out, his mouth wide open to showcase a disgusting gummy little mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks and snot dribbled down his nose. His siblings cried and struggled in fear, flailing around in my tub.
Well, I guess I didn’t wait for the anesthetic long enough. But I couldn’t stop now - I kept pushing on the blade, maneuvering between the bone and feeling ligaments snap. Blood began to squirt, and I grabbed a hemostatic clip to close off a larger vessel. I used my left hand to hold apply pressure to his arm, then cut swiftly down, separating the leg entirely. The arm dropped into the sink. I set the scalpel down, then tossed the arm into a bag - my chickens would make good use of these.
STEP 5: Apply pressure to the wound with a band, ligature, or hemostatic clip. Take the remaining skin flap and fold it over the amputated limb. Suture or staple the would closed, then wrap tightly with gauze.
I promptly grabbed the suturing supplies and began sewing the foal’s stump closed. It squealed, no doubt feeling thread snake through his skin. Fortunately for him, I was very good at sewing, and quickly stitched it up and snugly wrapped it into a bandage.
Repeat steps 1-5 with the second forelimb.
I took a breath. That wasn’t too hard. There was a moderate amount of blood flowing down my drain, but I had managed to position the foal in a way that minimized the amount of blood on him. I grabbed his second arm, dabbed it with alcohol, and quickly stuck my blade into it again. He wailed, wiggling his other nubby arm around. I swiftly sliced his second arm, which plopped down into the sink, then proceeded to hold the bloody nub tightly as I sew it back up and bandaged it.
“Yeah, I can do all six of these tonight, no problem.” Really, the stitching was the most tedious part. I could have gotten a medical stapler, but I couldn’t find any staples small enough at the surplus.
I placed the foal on his back. His cries were becoming hoarse and shrill, and he was probably starting to tire out.
STEP 6: Repeat steps 1-3 with the back limbs. Feel for the femur, the tibia, the patella and the ligament strictures of the stifle joint. It should feel similar but approximately inverse to the lateral epicondyle and the ulna, with the notable protruding structure of the patella analogous to the ulna. The patellar ligaments should be easier to feel than those of the lateral epicondyle. Cut directly into these ligaments, cutting upwards instead of downwards, following the curvature of the tibia. This procedure may require a second cut to entirely remove the leg.
I held his legs still with one hand and cut into his leg, carving upwards. Surely enough, I felt the blade go through muscle, but couldn’t sever the entire limb, and I felt momentary nauseous seeing the leg fall down and dangle by the teeniest bit of muscle and skin. I quickly severed it, and it also dropped.
Repeat step 5, then repeat steps 1-5 with the second leg.
Once again, I gripped stitched, and bandaged the leg. At this point, the foal was just breathing heavily, too exhausted to struggle and only crying a little bit. The legs probably weren’t hurting as much as the arms were, though.
I swiftly sliced off the fourth leg, and now I had a darling little pillowed foal. And it only took me about twenty minutes. But I wasn’t quite done with him yet.
I didn’t need a guide for this one. I was surprised to learn that fluffy testicles are more cattle-like than horse like, meaning that I wouldn’t have to to cut into him and use an emasculator. As curious as I was about using the scalpel again (it WOULD have been easy to just cut into him and pull his testicles out) I grabbed a set of elastrator pliers. In a couple seconds, I slipped a tight band around his scrotum. In a couple days, his balls would simply fall off.
Ah, one foal down, five to go. I put the little green foal onto a towel. He squeaked and rolled around, feeling some sense of comfort from the soft fabric.
The rest of the foals had calmed down, at least until I grabbed the second one, a pink mare, who squealed when I grabbed her by the scruff. I would need to bring the fillies and Malva back to the shelter to be spayed, but I could still take all her limbs easily.
I was much faster this time. I lopped her limbs off and they fell down, delicious little technicolor pretzel snacks for my chickens later. Then the third foal, then the fourth, the fifth, and the sixth. Soon, I had six crying little chirpies, swaying around helplessly, wiggling their nubbies and reaching out for any sense of comfort. There were only two males, their balls wrapped in a tight little band, already beginning to swell and discolor. I swaddled them all up in the towel, and walked back outside.
On my way out, I also a box of six pre-filled baby bottles of formula. When I reached the composter, I quietly opened the top platform. Thankfully, all of the pillowfluffs - including Malva - were fast asleep, but the chirping would quickly change that. I placed the towel-wrapped fluffies on the ground, then got to work aligning the bottles one by one on the other side of the trough. I secured them to the wooden slots with more rope, then I began bringing the chirpies up and settling them facing the adult fluffies, positioning their mouths near the nipples, their behinds every so slightly dangling off of an opposite ledge so their shit dropped into the compost too. I secured the first one quickly with rope, wrapping it around its body, to the wooden slats and to the bottle itself, preventing it from wiggling or falling or really doing anything but suckling on the bottle, at least for the time being.
I did the same to the second foal, and it was crying a little bit louder than I wanted it to.
“Mm…babbehs?”
“Shit.”
Malva began to blink her eyes. I quickened the pace, wrapping up the third, but the chirping was getting louder in response to her voice.
“Where babbehs? It darkies. Malba no feww babbehs dwinking fwom milkie-places.”
“Shh. Malva, you’re dreaming. Go back to sleep, okay?”
“Oh. Otay daddeh.” She closed her eyes again, but clearly wasn’t asleep. I tied down the fourth, then I had an idea.
I took the last two and placed them both near her teats instead of at their little drinking stations.. They started suckling and cooing. I heard a relaxed sigh from Malva, and she finally fell asleep.
Early next morning, I knew what I was in for. I went outside and immediately heard a cacophony of sobs from Malva and the others. I opened the box and feigned concern.
“Fluffies? What’s wrong?”
Malva bawled, looking back and forth at the bandaged, bloody, pillowed babies suckling at her own teats and the bandaged, bloody, pillowed babies suckling at the formula bottles, drinking diligently but trying desperately to knead at a mummah that wasn’t there with leggies they didn’t have.
“Buh-buh…Malba b-babbehs daddeh…their leggies aw gowne…huuhuu…don undewstan…what happen to babbeh leggies! They was gud babbehs daddeh! No fawe! No fawe for babbehs!! Huhuhhuu…”
“Aww, Malva, They were sick, and their leggies had to be taken away.”
To my surprise, Crimson spoke up, his ears flattened down with a scowl on his face.
“Malba babbehs going to be enfie pals mistah??” Malva screeched.
“NU!!! NU DADDEH! MALBA BABBEHS NU FOR ENFIES! FOR HUGGIES AND WUB! NU ENFIES! NU! NU NU NU NU NU NU NU NU NU!”
“Malva, calm down. Your babies aren’t enfie-babies. They’re not litter pals either. The babies are staying here with you. They’re going to grow up with you, okay?” Malva sniffled.
“B-but…Onwy hab two babbehs hewe…babbehs not wif mummah…why oder babbehs dwink fwom fake milkie-places?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to switch two of your babies out every day, okay? So all the babies get turns with your milkies. But we don’t want the babies to fall into the compost again, and that’s why they don’t have any more leggies, and why they’re on the other side of your nummies. Here, let me show you…”
I grabbed the two foals that were suckling on her. They squeaked and whined, and Malva gasped.
“D-d-daddeh nu nu don do that daddeh nu daddeh NU! Daddeh STAHP!” I placed the two foals in front of the bottles that hadn’t been drunk from yet, then untied two of the other foals and placed them in front of Malva’s teats, then used the resulting rope to tie down the other two. Lord, I should have used velcro.
Malva stared down in shock and disbelief, and the other fluffies looked at her and the foals, similarly aghast. They, fortunately, did not seem to register that I was the one behind all this. Maybe Crimson knew, but he was clearly more concerned about Malva than trying to accuse me of anything.
“Um…o-okay daddeh…this otay…Malba guess…”
“Yeah. Just remember, other mummahs have their babies taken away from them every day, especially when they’re turned into little pals or enfie pals. But you don’t - you get to be with your babies, forever.”
“Forevah?”
“Forever.”
