Part 3
Your name is Hank, and you raise fluffies as a hobby. Your little Colt Grape really needs a companion, and you need new studs for your mares. Come to think of it, you need some new mares too, but that can wait.
For the last hour or two, you have been browsing the selections of fluffy’s up for adoption at the local shelters. There are several likely candidates, but Saturdays are a prime day for adopting, and it’s unlikely that any of the really nice ones will be left. Besides, everybody takes the foals first anyway. You call up a friend that works at the Westside Fluffy Rescue.
“Hi Hank, how’s it going?” Carol is a nice lady who also raises fluffies, though she doesn’t really breed them in any real sense of the word, so she has bought foals from you in the past.
“My earthie stallion is acting a fool, and I have a lonely little weanling that could use some company.” you reply. Carol knows you are a good caretaker, and can usually get you a nice fluffy.
“I hate to say it, but our selection of colts and stallions is pretty thin at the moment, Hank. Most of the guys I have are all fixed first thing through the door. There are a few, but you’d have to come take a look, they aren’t on the website.”
“Sounds like a plan,” you reply.
Westside is a nice place, as rescues go. Privately funded, they typically don’t have the issues that county shelters have, but that also means they take in far too many fluffies, and typically don’t kill even the most hopeless cases without cause. This particular location is in a strip mall near the center of town. There are a few short pens, full of frolicking fluffies, but the bulk of the fluffs up for adoption are in cages lining either wall. Some fluffies are by themselves, others share cages with friends. Some cages have entire fluffy families. Carol and her staff try to keep families together when they come in with foals, but they aren’t going to stop someone from giving a good home to a fluffy even if it means taking them away from their special friend. Carol sees you, and motions you over.
“Pretty busy today.” You motion to the dozens of people milling about, perusing the selection of fluffies available for rescue.
“Yeah, it’s been a good day so far. We have almost run out of starter bags to send home with the adoptees, things are going so fast. Let me show you what we have before someone flags me down again.” She guides you back amongst the rows of cages. Near the back, there are several cages in a row, away from the others.
Each of these cages are identical to the others, but in addition to the nametag and bio blurb about each occupant, there is a tag on the cage “PLEASE NOTE; State law prohibits the sale of unneutered fluffies to members of the public without a valid breeders license. Neutering services available at a discount to unlicensed adopters.”
Three mares are available: two are beautiful and bright, but one is fairly bland, a weird beige color with an unfortunate red mane and tail. The effect is not flattering. You pass the mares by with a few scratches for each of them, and read the placards for the two available stallions. The first, for a charcoal gray pegasus with a bright yellow mane, reads like so:
“Hello, my name is Sprite. The staff think I am about 5 years old, but don’t let that fool you, I am still full of energy. I was abused by a fluffy mill, but I am better now. I would be best for a home with plenty of friends to play with. I could also be a mature and experienced special friend for the right mare whose parents want foals.”
Sprite rears up and puts his head out to you as you read
“Hewwo nice mistah. Yuu pway wif Spwite? Be nuu daddeh?” He wiggles like any foal, but his age is obvious. His hips seem stiff, and his mane and tail are a bit sparse. This nice boy has clearly had a hard life. Probably not a good choice for someone looking for more than a single litter out of their mare. You give him a few pets, but he is clearly disappointed when you move on down the line. The other available stallion is far more sedate.
“My name is Neon. I am about 6 months old. I came from a big litter, but all my brothers and sisters have already been adopted. I am very well behaved, and my mother and father were both very pretty fluffies. I am looking for a forever home with a nice family, and I would love to have a special friend.” Neon is curled up in a corner, nestled on a ratty blanket. He is also a pegasus , and has bright neon-green fur. In fact, he is so bright that he stands out like a sore thumb from all the other fluffies. His mane is a dark brown color, and the contrast between that and his fluff is slightly jarring.
“Hi buddy.” you call out to Neon, and he perks up. You hold out a treat from your pocket, and Neon walks over unsurely.
“…Mistah hab nummie fow Neon?” He asks timidly.
You hand him the treat and Neon munches it slowly.
“Tank ou nice mistah. Neon wike nummies, but nuone wike Neon.”
A tear rolls down his cheek and you pet his soft fur.
“Thats not true buddy.” You reassure the little guy, but clearly that isn’t enough.
“Mistah am nice, but Neon know dat nuone wan him. Nice mummehs and daddehs take aww Neon’s bwuddahs and sistahs bu nu Neon.” He sulks. You pick his sullen butt up and nestle him against you. He smiles and purrs into your jacket, obviously happy in this moment.
“How would you like to come home with me, Neon?” Neon perks up immediately.
“Mistah be nuu daddeh? Gib huggies and wub?” He waits on baited breath.
“Yes, Neon. I’ll be your new daddy. Your new daddy wants you have special hugs with pretty mares. Does that sound good to you?” Your new stallion cheers happily.
“Ob cowse daddeh! Neon wud wub speshul fwend, be daddeh tu tummy-babbehs!’ He has brightened up considerably from his formerly drab demeanor. You bring him up to the register to pay his fees and file the adoption paperwork. The little guy is beaming and telling everybody that he has a daddy now, sitting on the counter patiently while you fill out the paperwork.
Your name is Neon, and YOU ARE SO HAPPY! You thought that you would never have a daddy like your brothers and sisters, but now you do!
Your daddy is Hank, and he is a big gentle man with glasses and a beard. He gave you the best hugs, and now he has put something around your neck, attached to daddy’s hoofs with a string. The thing on your neck is kind of annoying, but you don’t care, because you are leaving the big place with all the sad fluffies, and going to your new HOME.
You and your new daddy are walking along the gray rock place outside when you feel a familiar sensation. You need to make poopies. You know that only bad fluffies make poopies outside of the litter box, but there is no litter box here! You don’t want to be a bad fluffy for your new dad, but you have an idea:
“Daddeh, Neon nee make poopies…” you say carefully.
“Okay buddy. Lets find you a place you can go, ok?” Your new daddy Hank looks around, and then guides you down a long, dark place. It doesn’t smell very pretty here, and there are many dark and scary things, but your new daddy is so big that you don’t feel scared.
“Ok, you can go here Neon.” Your daddy brings you over by a big scary metal box that smells awful.
“But daddeh, dat nu am wittawbox. Neon nu wan be bad fwuffy an make poopies in da wong pwace!” You plead.
“Its ok Neon, make poopies here, it’s fine. This alley is basically one big litterbox anyway, a little more shit ain’t gonna change that.”
You aren’t sure what that means, but you squat to do your business. Afterwards, you feel much better, but over the smell of your not-pretty poopies, there is another smell, and then a familiar sound.
“Chirp Chirp Chirp!”
“BABBEHS! Daddeh, dew is babbehs hew!” They sound like chirpy babies to you, but you can’t hear their mother. Chirpy babies need their mother for milk and love. You are worried for them.
—-
You are Hank, and your newly adopted stallion Neon has managed to find some fluffies as you stop to let him poop in an alleyway.
Listening carefully to the chirping, you walk down to the nearest dumpster, and open a cardboard box on the ground beside it. Inside is the carcass of a dull blue mare. Her tongue hangs limply from her mouth, and her neck is bent at a sickening angle. Perched atop her fuzz are a pair of foals, a unicorn and a pegasus. They appear to be a male and a female, and clearly are not weaned yet, as they keep trying to suckle on their deceased mother. They can’t be too far from weaning though, as they are approaching guinea pigs in size. One is a dull pale blue with a purple mane like the mother, while the other one is silver-gray in fur, with a mane and tail that matches the other foal.
“Nuu, munstah nuu huwt fwuffy an sistah!” The larger of the foals cowers in your shadow. You pick the apparent colt up, careful to avoid his shit-smeared bottom. He is dirty, but his fur is nice and thick, and he doesn’t have any noticeable problems. You check out his sister too. She coos softly as you pet her.
“Mistah nu huwt fwuffy? Nu gib foweba-sweepies wike mummuh an daddeh?” she asks apprehensively.
“No, I’m not going to hurt you fluffies. Since you’re such a good fluffy for protecting your sister from monsters, I’m going to take you home to meet my fluffies.” The siblings chirp happily about getting a new home, as you scrounge up a stray box to take them home in. Together, you and your three new fluffies walk to your Bronco for the drive home.
You’ve really lucked out this time. Neon seems like he will be good for your ‘herd’ and hopefully Grape will like his new friends.
