Abandoned Angel
Part 8: Phoenix Down
The cup of coffee sat untouched. Today turned into quite a mess. Ruined sheets. Angry potential girlfriend. Rounded up with a severe beating to his fluffy. Robert felt in a daze. He didn’t mean to snap like that. He never considered himself a fluffy abuser. Not that in today’s society it was necessarily a bad thing, nor uncommon. Wanton abuse and destruction of feral, and many not so feral, fluffies happened on a daily basis. But that wasn’t the issue.
The issue was his fluffy, Angel, a beautiful deep blue and green Pegasus. For the last half hour she has been stuffed inside her sorry box. Each hoof he had beaten with the sorry stick several times, leaving the pads broken and bloody. He shoved her into the box and walked away, leaving her to suffer. To suffer standing in her filth and blood. Dammit, he thought, I sure made this a right mess. First things first.
Moments later Robert quietly entered the safe room.
“Huuuu…. Daddeh….” He could hear Angel softly crying. Her eyes closed and her mouth open. The smell of shit and blood overwhelming. “Hewp… daddeh… hewp… Huuuu” She couldn’t move, couldn’t not stand on her beaten hooves.
“I’m sorry,” Robert whispered as he pulled her trembling body from the box. He cradled her like a baby to the kitchen and set her inside the sink. Her moans continued as he began to wash her off. The brown and red filth pooled around her back. Her fur slowly returned to the original dark blue and green. Her dark brown hooves, though, were a mess. The pads cracked and broken. While not leaking blood, the open wounds were horrific. The wounds glared at him, angry and accusingly, as he finished washing her body before treating the damage he inflicted.
Robert cupped his hands and trickled the warm water over her hoof. CHIRP! She flailed against the sink. He went slowly, gently, tenderly washing and wiping off each hoof. He was no doctor, nor a vet. But he did have a large first aid kit which he put to good use. He coated each hoof in antiseptic ointment topped off with a large gauze pad and wrapped the bundle tightly.
Chirp! “Huuu… Huuuu…. OWIES! Daddeh!” Her cries resumed. The bath and the soothing ointment bringing back some life to his broken fluffy. He lifted her from the sink and quickly dried her off. Holding her tightly while she cried. “Huuuu Why daddeh? Angel gud fwuffy! Hoofies owies!” Her fur and his shirt wet from the tears.
Robert just held her until her sobs subsided. “Angel, do you know why you got the sorry stick?”
“Angel nu wan daddeh hab speshew fwend.” This surprised Robert. He didn’t expect his formerly abandoned fluffy to be all that smart but she did show a surprisingly accurate understanding of cause and effect. Of course, spraying someone with shit and then getting beaten for it would make a strong connection between the two events. She didn’t seem afraid of him either after such a traumatic experience. Maybe because that was only the second time she had ever ended up in the sorry box. “Angel nu wan shawe daddeh.” Her voice squeaky yet adamant.
“Angel, daddy needs friends. Daddy needs a special friend. One day you’ll have a special friend. Would you get mad if daddy beat your special friend after special huggies?”
“Angel gun hab speshew fwend?” Robert sighed. At least she was preoccupied now with the thought of a new special friend and not on her recent beating.
“Maybe soon. Once you’re better.”
That day was miserable for both fluffy and owner. Fluffies healed much faster than people. The amazing metabolic rate, which led to their famous shitting abilities, also helped their recovery. The next two days were spent with Robert waiting on Angel. Carrying her room to room. Holding her over the litter to help her with poopies. Feeding her by hand. Plenty of petting and brushing. He even let her sleep in the bed next to him. Her weekend she spent with no wants, well, almost no wants. Angel still kept the idea of a new special friend tucked away in her mind.