Abandoned Angel Part 1 [author:SpaghettiDave] [id:17167]

Precursor
This is a long story compared to some (many) on the Booru. It is slow at time as this is a first time story. And I want to develop the characters a bit before the harsh stuff begins. This story is a plethora of situations. Sadbox. Hugbox. Discipline. Foals. Abuse. Lots of many different things will come from this story.

Abandoned Angel
Part 1: Lost and Found

Another cold and miserable day, Robert thinks to himself. Winter has been especially harsh this year. Record setting snow fall. Record setting temperatures. It’s been miserable. While he can find sanctuary inside his home, the animals are left to suffer. Of course the only suffering he sees is the brightly colored fluffies frozen in the white snow. This thought is brief and fleeting as he starts his car. Next time, he muses, remote start and heated seats.

Robert ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Another typical day at work. Get this done. Get that done. Why isn’t this done faster? Why didn’t you assume that needed to be done yesterday even if you only received it today? For only being in his early 30s his hair is peppered with grey. Mouse clicks and keyboard taps pour from his office as faster than the coffee rushes in.

Smash! A box of books crashes on his desk startling Robert. “Robert, man. You need a hobby. You need a drink. Maybe a vacation? Stop stressing. Get a pet. Get a girlfriend.” Dave just grins. It’s the usual Thursday pep talk from the boss. His boss wasn’t exactly wrong. Robert was single. Didn’t have many hobbies, nor could he adequately argue that sitting on the internet watching cartoons was a hobby. Drinking wasn’t out of the question, but Robert has been a responsible adult and kept his drinking to a minimum during the week. Vacations were rare and he spent them doing household chores.

“You know, boss. That’s a great idea!” Robert smiles. Why not call his bluff? “I think I’ll take a few days off. Let’s see, it’s 4ish on a Thursday, right? Since you offered, I’ll take tomorrow off. A nice long three day weekend. “

“Uh,” Dave stumbles. Robert never took the bait and never pushed back with the usual ribbing. “Well…”

“You’re the best, boss. I’ll see you Monday!” he jumped, his coat on before hitting the door. His flabbergasted boss just standing there. That’ll never work again! He thought. Of course it would. His boss would forget, his boss always forgot. Sure, he’ll catch some flak for it come Monday, but he was free! Free!

It was still cold out. And after the nearly hour drive in rush hour traffic it was dark as well. In his hands was dinner in the Styrofoam container in his left, his keys in the right. In the dim light, falling in the shadows from his nearly burnt out porch light, was a small bundle of blue and green. A fluffy pony. A baby fluffy pony, tiny as a mouse. Curled and tucked tightly into the corner where the walls met, one of the few places without snow.

Another dead fluffy. Poor baby. Robert had nothing against fluffies. Sure, they were a man made disaster. But they could be cute. From his travels on the internet he knew of the joy people received from torturing them, but also how damn adorable they could be. His key jingled and his door made a loud suction as it opened and then a faint “….mummah…”

The fluffy wasn’t dead! Robert quickly dropped his stuff inside the door and he gently scooped up the baby. Retreating to the warmth inside, he peered out. No tracks in the snow. No idea how the foal ended up on his porch, but he wasn’t about to play detective for such a small mystery. What did intrigue him is how this foal survived by itself for so long. Did he really want to keep it? Sure, he’s had cats and dogs and birds, but a fluffy was almost like a child. A bio-engineered ”dumb as a box of rocks (hey, don’t insult boxes of rocks, they have feelings)” toy that can talk. Robert didn’t even consider what would happen as he stared down at the little ball of fur in his hands.

Deep blue with a forest green mane and tail. Even tiny, tiny wings. The foal was breathing, but very faintly. It’s eyes were not open, but was that from age or from nearly dying? He knew there was a huge chance this baby wouldn’t make it, be he would still try. Robert was no hugboxer, but he was also no abuser as much as you can abuse a toy. Swiftly Robert made his way to the kitchen sink. Heat. And really, the foal could use a bath, it’s short fur matted with mud, piss and shit.

Robert worked the foal under the water, tail first, making sure to avoid getting it’s head under. Softly he could hear murmurs and chirps coming from the foal along with it feebly struggling against the water. He persisted in washing and warming the baby and discovered it was in fact a female. Well, she survived this long. Get her washed and then some food. He lingered with her body under the water, hoping the extended contact would warm the frail foal. He left the foal on the counter to dry, wrapped in a towel. The bundle sat inside of a bowl while he searched for some sort of food.

Necessity is the mother of invention. Robert ground up some fresh oatmeal, added milk and a dash of sugar and heated it in the microwave. The timer, or maybe the smell awoke the baby.

Chirp! “Mummah! Miwk!” chirp!

Such noise from such a small creature. Robert took a seat and set the foal between his legs. It was kind of cute how she struggled to free herself. The foal continued to chirp as it sniffed at the air, no longer calling out for family. Gingerly he used an eyedropper to feed the mixture into her mouth. Greedily she ate it up, her head and neck bobbing reminiscent of how birds feed.

An ounce of milk and oatmeal and sugar later, the baby curled into a ball in the towel on his lap and slept. This morning Robert had no intention of getting a pet. Nor did that include nursing it back to life. Time for some research! He pulled over his tablet and went to work. Food, toys, blankets, bed, litterbox and litter. A sorry box, a sorry stick, more food. Eventually some canned spaghetti. If she survives then fluffyproof the house and make a safe room.

He looked at the clock and realized it was still early in the evening. Early enough to go shopping for all the necessary supplies. He left the foal curled in the towel and placed it inside a deep bowl, much too big and steep for her to escape. With that he made his way to the door, excited about his new fluffy.

Hmm… What to name her?

Next>>

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Thanks to @pillows for reuploading.

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FYI, either I wrote It Seemed Like A Good Idea as a prequel to Abandoned Angel, or SpaghettiDave wrote Abandoned Angel after taking inspiration from my story. I think he started it first. In either case, other than a discrepancy in the colors of the foal, the intent was for the surviving foal in my story to be the same as the one rescued in this story.

Thanks for archiving and uploading Abandoned Angel, I really missed SpaghettiDave and his work, and I especially miss collaborating with him on stories and characters.

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Gosh, I wish I could get out of work as easily as Robert just did! I’m just starting this series, and it seems to be off to a good start so far. I wonder if the Mummah abandoned the foal on purpose because she knew she couldn’t care for it, or if she didn’t like the colors, or for some other reason?
Nice start!

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That foals mother had no other bearing to the story, so I don’t think I ever came up with a reason why.

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