Hobby Horse chapter 7.1 by skettiswipuh (Virgil)

“Margaret, keep these foals busy for a little while. I’m going to tend to Bluebell first.”

Fuuucking, Heeeeeeelllllll Bob had never seen such a bad infestation of ticks on a single animal.

Poor little Bluebell had one ear completely stuffed with the parasites, and the other was getting close to being full.
There was a border of sandy black detritus between each of the bugs, made up of their shit and offal.

Bob took out a bottle of olive oil he usually reserved for cooking, and poured it over the tick mounds on his newest fluffy’s body. He payed extra attention to Bluebell’s ears.
It took about half a minute before the ticks began to respond. They couldn’t breathe through the oily coating, so they started to let go, and crawl around to find better places to attach themselves.
Bob took this opportunity to scrape the bugs off of the fluff and into a glass with the edge of his knife.
“Goddamn”
How could he stay mad at this little fellow that had literally hundreds of bugs sucking his blood for the past few months?

“Bluebell” Bob absently began speaking as he was removing the ticks "I hate to tell you this, but you deserve to know it.
Tonight we’re getting all the parasites off of your body.
But in a couple of days we have to get more parasites out of your body. "

This was more human speech than had ever been directed toward Bluebell at one time in his entire life. He was awestruck, and clung to Bob because he had no better choice at the moment.

huuuUuuuuu” the fluffy whimpered

“It’s okay” Bob whispered
We’re going to get those bad bugs off of you.
And then we’ll get those bad bugs out of you.

“huuuUUUUUU!!!” he began to cry

"Shhhh. Hush now, Bluebell. You’re going to be okay.
The formerly offensive stallion and Leader of his Herd acquiesced and allowed Bob to clean the inside of his ears for the first time in…in…
for the First Time, I guess.

Those dirty ticks had all let go, and they had all been scraped into a glass jar where they couldn’t escape.

“I sure wish the worms were this easy to catch.”
Bluebell looked up at his new Daddeh with wide eyes
Bob looked down at Bluebell.

“You’re clean enough to go get some sleep, Bluey.
We have more work to do, but for now you’re okay.”

Bluebell bounced twice on Bob’s lap and jumped up to toss his arms around Bob’s neck in his most heartfelt hug ever.

“Fank ouu Missuh Bawb. Yu been suu gud tu fwuffies!”
Bob cradled Bluebell in his free hand and nuzzled him with a smile

“It’s my pleasure, Bluebell.
But, now that we’re done, I hope you’ll help me with the rest of your family.”

It seemed for a moment that Bluebell hadn’t even imagined that his herd would need to go through this same treatment, though it was quite obvious that they would

Bluey could see where he could help, and spoke gently to each of his babies while Bob cleared them of their ticks.

When they came to the last baby, Bob noticed that it’s eyes were very light in color
“Dis muh wastest bebeh. Him name am Dawkie” Bluebell spoke with a modicum of pride

“Darkie?” asked Bob
“Yuh. Dawkie. Him awwayz tawkin 'bout how wowd wook so dawk!”

No.
Nonononononono.
They were too late to save his eyes…

Darkie’s pale pupils scanned around the room, but they didn’t carry enough information back to his little brain to let him see the world around him.

“Darkie” didn’t describe the creature…it described how that poor little one saw the world.

“Dawkie heaw ou, daddeh! Daddeh obuh DEAH!” the blind foal pointed with glee, giggling because he knew he was right.

The simple joy that little Darkie took in finding his father tore something apart in Bob’s old heart, and he quietly started to cry.

“Yup! Dawkie be ALWAYS wite!” his sire played along with the familiar game
Bluebell took a step toward the blind foal and leaned waaaay off to the left of him, speaking in the most lowest growl that the fluffy could manage
“Heeey Dawkie!”
Darkie giggled and pawed at the air where he expected his Daddeh to be
but Bluebell had already slunk to his other side with a grin
“Heeeey Dawkie!” he whispered, laughing as his son flailed out with his arms and found him.
Darkie’s smile beamed radiantly in those brief moments.

Maybe Bob didn’t understand all of Mrs. Cooter’s demands, and her decrees…
but this time…he was so glad he’d followed her instructions.

(Continued in the comments)

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Chapter 7.2

Some of the local boys did indeed come around to try and buy fluffies

“So, uhh, we, like, don’t have a bunch of money”

“Oh that’s totally fine, just so long as you treasure your new fluffy friend and give it the bestest life it could eber hope for!” Mrs. Cooter sang with her trademark smile.

Yep. These were the same teens that had tried to lure some of the fluffies off of the farm, but they couldn’t get past the Fluffies’ Electric Fence programming. In fact it looked like a couple of these boys had been shocked by said fence and now knew to act somewhat respectfully.

“It Seems that some of these learning aids work well for both fluffs and little boys.”
Bob had to chuckle


“So, like” the oldest of the group began “do you have like a garbage bin we can find some fluffies in?”

“Absolutely Not.” Bob intoned
“This is a fluffy rescue center that is known throughout the world.”
Bob reckoned that if he was regularly getting advice from people in Australia and South Africa that his words had a “Worldwide” reach.
“We treat fluffies with dignity and care, here. And we’ll never sell off nor give away ‘undesirable’ fluffs. If that’s what you’re looking for, then you can just keep moving.”

Most people would have questioned this dubious certification, but these boys simply said “Oh. Uh, okay then. We’re gonna go now. Bye!”
“Sure. Take care, boys.”
was Bob’s sneering response.

Fucking idiots.
Did they really think he was going to hand over a half dozen of the babies in his charge because they offered a whole fiver?
Go fuck yourselves, kids.
This isn’t That sort of Farm.

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