Baxter was seated comfortably on one of the few ratty cushions in his safe room. This ‘room’ was little more than a broom closet but it was cozy enough for this stallion. Space for a pink Barbie CRTV/VCR combo, a few VHS tapes, one or two stuffed animals. It wasn’t much but it sure beat the alternatives.
“Teehee! Yaaayyyy! WHEEEEE!” Waggling two hooves up above his head he whooped and cheered as one of his favorite movies played. From the glow of the television was none other than Beethoven, was was a great movie for big boys such as him. Cartoons were for babies but he was a mature sort.
Suddenly the darkness of his little cuddle cave was illuminated with light from the kitchen as daddeh slowly eased the door open.
“Hewwo daddeh.” Chirruped Baxter, rolling over on his cushion and hopping up to all four hooves. “Am watchin’ Beetoben. Yew wan watch wif Baxteh?” Looking up to daddeh, the orange and red good boy gave a cute waggle of his tail.
Daddeh was a short man with no hair. He always wore nice clothes. How did Baxter know they were nice? Because he got told so, that’s why. A shiny watch. Cellphone clipped to his belt.
Glancing to the television, daddeh got one of his little smirks.
“Beethoven? You know that dog died in 2007 right? I couldn’t watch something like this without thinking about death. It’d make me too sad.” Daddeh didn’t look sad at all telling his fluffy this bit of grim news. Sure made Baxter feel like shit though. Looking to the television, tears immediately welled up in his eyes.
Bawky-fwend was fowebbah sweepies? Like most fluffies, didn’t really understand what TV or movies really were. To him it may as well be happening in real time.
Slapping a hoof against his VCR, Baxter slunk down to one of his cushions and began sobbing helplessly against it. He didn’t want to think of Beethoven being gone. He was a good, silly thing. Just like him!
Wait…
Would he go fowebbah sweepies one day too?
“EEEEEEE!” Baxter thrashed hopelessly around. Outside the closet, daddeh whistled cheerfully to himself as he made himself a cup of coffee.
++++
It took awhile for Baxter to calm down. Sniffling, hiccuping, hugging one of his few stuffed animals up to his furry li’l chest. This was Arnie the anteater. It had a silly felt tongue sticking out and Bax would blip his own against it, giggling a bit.
Waddling out from his closet safe room, he got a good look at daddeh sitting at the dining room table. Working on his crossword puzzles.
“Hewwo daddeh.” Baxter announced cautiously, which caused the wormy man to look up and narrow his plucked eyebrows in a sinister fashion.
Setting down his pencil, daddeh smiled over his cooling cup of coffee. “Hi there Baxter. Is that Arnie? You know, he was made in a factory. By enslaved Chinese people..” Soft sigh.
“Isn’t that messed up, Baxter? Your cuddly friend is the result of messed up labor practices. And communism. Also I got it from the thrift store. You know what that means? It likely came from a dead kid. That’s kind of grim and sad.”
Front weggies going wobbly, Baxter’s ears pinned down. Arnie fell down to the linoleum, followed by a few patters of new tears which burned hot and bright in his eyes.
Slinking back to his closet, he simply gave out a whimpering: ‘Huuu’.
+++++
He didn’t really want to do much all day after that. His heart was filled with saddies. Why was daddeh su mean? Why was the world so SAD?
Finally mustering himself off from the cushions, he wandered out into the kitchen. Daddeh was no longer here. Into the living room then. Creeping around the corner, he found his owner watching teebee.
The news. It was always about people who had their housies burned down, or people who went fowebbah sweepies, bridges that fell down, sadness and misery.
Yet it never made his owner sad. Or mad. It was a complex thing. The way Baxter understood it, it was something like…like he couldn’t explain. News was horrible.
“Baxtuh hab idea!” He announces to himself, backing off into the kitchen. Snack cakes and other treats were kept at a height that he could reach easily as long as he didn’t go nuts with them. Wobbling up and nudging his face into a box, he selected an oatmeal cake shaped like a pumpkin. That was fun! Cinching it against his teeth, he’d bring it in to daddeh.
Gently touching daddeh’s leg with one of his hooves, Baxter carefully dropped the snack cake onto his lap after scrabbling up with some difficulty.
“Wook daddeh! Sweetie nummy! Yew wub sweetie nummies!”
Of course he did. Daddeh was in a mood though. Though calling it a ‘mood’ wasn’t quite right as he was always acting like this.
“Oh look. A sugary treat. Tooth decay. Childhood diabetes. Have you heard of the sugar cartel, Baxter?” He asked with one of his poop-eating smiles.
Yes. He had. None of those facts had stopped daddeh from eating these things before. “Daddeh. Pwease jus’ hab nummies, pwease dun gib saddy tawk.”
As daddeh start rambling about sugar and how is was destroying the world, Baxter simply helped himself off the couch and wandered away.
++++
Daddeh was once more watching the news as Baxter made his reappearance a few minutes later. Arnie was in tow, along with a sparkly princess wand that lit up and made majestic sounds. He’d gotten this from the dollar store and it was very precious.
Getting a look at the princess wand, daddeh smirked. “Imagine how much lead is in that!”
Bax didn’t care how much lead was in it though. He’d had enough. “Baxtuh weabin’, daddeh.” Began inching closer to the front door. Being summer time and with his daddeh being such an insufferable dick, there was no air conditioning and most of the air flow relied on open windows and this screen door. Which was quite easy to open.
Now daddeh would turn off the news. Cross his arms and smirk smugly. “Oh? You think so? Statistically speaking, you’re going to be raped and murdered out there. Perhaps both at the same time. By immigrants. Or turned into Chinese food.”
Growling, Baxter had enough of hearing about that stuff! “Nu am statistik! Ams fwuffy! Am happy, gud boy! Am wunnin’ way naow!” Nosing out of the door, he could hear daddeh screeching out from behind him.
“Don’t you do it, Baxter! Gang rape! Acid attacks! Monkeypox! You hear me, boy!?” Daddeh was huffing and standing in the doorway as Baxter meandered across the lawn. Shooting his owner one last glance, he scurried down the sidewalk. He didn’t know what his future held but he wouldn’t let his happy good feelings die on the vine.
