Part Three
[Note: In order to maintain continuity with the next part of Filling the Space I have planned, I need to give this story a bit more attention for a while. I’ve been focused on other stories and projects recently, so it’s about time I updated this anyway.]
Buddy was startled awake when the car door closed, not loudly but still enough to stir him from his doze. After his brief visit at the veterinarian’s office, the lack of good sleep had caught up to him, and he’d dozed off during the car ride home. Was he home already?
He looked around, the transparent sides of the box he was placed in allowing him to see out the window. He saw his mummah walking around, then crouching down, before returning to her side of the car and getting in again. Buddy’s confusion deepened when he heard a “Churp!”. It sounded a bit strange, but he’d recognize the voice of a chirpy foal anywhere.
He saw his mummah gently flipping the foal around, but the imperfect transparency of the box, coupled with her hands being in the way, prevented him from making out any details. Was the foal all alone? The thought hurt Buddy, since either reason for a foal to be left alone was a bad one. Abandonment or a dead family.
“Mummah fin’ babbeh?”
“Mmhm.” She sounded distracted.
“Chrrp! Chee’!” Again, the chirps sounded…wrong.
“Am babbeh hab sickies?”
“Buddy?”
“Am babbeh otay?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Wut?”
“Close your eyes, Buddy!”
Buddy closed his eyes, not understanding but wanting to be good. Then he heard a horrible cracking noise, and an even more ghastly silence. No! This couldn’t be happening!
“NU! WAI MUMMAH GIB BABBEH FOWEBAH-SWEEPIES?”
His mummah didn’t respond, only getting out of the car once more and carrying the foal to a bio-waste bin. Buddy, of course, only recognized the bin as the place where people put dead or dying fluffies, and burst into tears. Why would his mummah do this?
“Babbehs am fow huggies an’ wub! Nu am fow fowebah-sweepies!” he sobbed when she returned.
“I know,” her tone was cold and distant as she began driving again.
“Wai?”
“I don’t want to explain right now.”
“Munstah mummah! Wai kiww babbeh?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Buddy!”
“WAI KIWW BABBEH?”
Buddy was thrown into the side of the box as the car swerved, then stopped. He gasped for air as his broken ribs sent a wave of pain through his body. His mummah was shaking with anger, and he began to cower, fearing this new person he hadn’t seen in his mummah.
“Because it was the only thing I could do for him. Because someone took away his eyes, his ears, his legs, and his tongue. Because even if I saved him I’d only be giving him a life of misery. Can you understand that, Buddy? Can you understand having to make that choice?”
“Bu’ babbehs am fow huggies and wub…” Buddy protested quietly.
“I know! I know, but I’m not some genius who can somehow give those things back! I did what I could! Can you understand what life would have been for him? Can you imagine being unable to run, see, talk, or even taste food?”
“Nu am FAIW!”
“Tell that to whoever forced me to make that choice!”
“Huu huu huu!”
His mummah sighed, and the gentleness returned to her voice. “Buddy, sometimes we have to make bad choices. Sometimes there is no good answer. I just hope that I can protect you from having to make those choices.”
Buddy heard the pain in her voice, and he deeply regretted his words. She’d been hurting, and he’d only made it worse! “Buddy am sowwy.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have explained before I did what I did. I just…I just didn’t know if I would be able to keep the nerve to do it after that. I didn’t want to risk not being able to help that foal.”
“It am otay.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing about it is okay. But there’s nothing we can do about that. Let’s go home.”
Buddy watched through the windows as the scenery passed. He was still tired, but somehow he couldn’t fall asleep again. So he sat, and he watched, and he quietly cried.
…
“Hewwo!” Snowball greeted them when they returned home. Buddy tried to muster some enthusiasm in his response, but exhaustion and sadness leeched any energy from his return greeting.
“Am Buddy otay?”
Buddy didn’t want to explain. Snowball had lived a sheltered life, and still had an idealistic view of the world. He didn’t want to take that away from her. “Am otay. Jus’ tiwed, hab owwies.”
“Huggies wiww maek bettew!”
“Tank 'ou, Snowbaww.”
As they hugged, he felt a little better, but there was still a lump of bitterness in his chest. Why was the world so unfair to fluffies? How could a foal be so hurt that death was preferable to living? He’d been there himself, and the thought of a foal suffering that much was unfathomable.
…
That evening, after Snowball had fallen asleep, Buddy made his way to the living room, where he heard the TV. His mummah was sitting there, occasionally drinking something from a small cup, but didn’t seem to like the taste. He walked up, and hugged her leg.
“Oh, hey, Buddy. How are you doing?”
“Buddy am otay. Am 'ou otay, mummah?”
“I will be, once I finish this.”
What kind of magic was this? A drink that made things better?
“Weawwy?”
“Well, more like I’ll be able to forget about it for a while.”
“Nu am otay?”
“I just need some time to process it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to put a fluffy down. I guess I’d forgotten how bad it is.”
Buddy was horrified at the thought. “Mummah had tu gib odda fwuffies forebah-sweepies?”
“It happens. You’ve been homeless before, I’m sure you’ve seen things like that.”
Buddy considered this, and realized that he had. Fluffies so broken they could only ask for death. Fluffies slowly dying, but who would never have a chance of living. Foals starving, left behind or with dead families.
“Mummah?”
“What is it?”
“Am Buddy bad fwuffy fow nu gib forebah-sweepies wike mummah?”
She sighed. “I’m too sober for this. No, Buddy you’re not a bad fluffy for that. It’s not something you should have to do, and I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Tank 'ou, mummah. Fow nu maek babbeh hab mowe huwties.”
“Please don’t thank me for that. It just makes it worse. Fuck it, I’m finishing the bottle.”
Buddy flinched a bit at the meanie word, even if he fully agreed with the sentiment. “Can Buddy hab speciaw-wawa tuu?”
“What?” she chuckled a bit. “I’ve never even considered it. Let me look it up.”
The time grew late, and slowly Buddy relaxed more and more, the diluted alcohol easing his nerves and helping him forget about the pain. Eventually, he dozed off in his mummah’s lap. She looked down at him, smiling slightly as he tried to run in his sleep, but her expression grew more thoughtful and serious.
“Probably not the best thing to be teaching him. Oh well, just once is fine.”
…
Can I give my fluffy alcohol?
According to Hasbio technicians, fluffies can consume alcohol with no ill effects.*
*Woolifluffs may experience additional side effects from alcohol consumption.
Part Five
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Poor Buddy, too much sadness to experience while trying to find a new start for himself.
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