The bin of brown fluffies comes into view and you immediately scan through the options. They’re far more behaved than the prior group, some even accepting that they will likely never have a home due to a gene they can’t control. You pick over them with your eyes, scoping out the few that have not quite lost all hope. There’s a soft, hazelnut color goal with dark chocolate hair that strikes your attention. Your hand reaches out to gently stroke the mane.
“Hello there,” you speak softly, earning a surprised peep from the little foal.
“H-hewwo nice wady!” squeaks the fluffy, still recovering from the shock of being acknowledged. You smile at the politeness, appreciative of the well behaved manner.
“Would you like to come home with me?” you question, the foals eyes going wide with disbelief and joy.
“W-weawy? Nice wady be nyu Mummah?”
You give a nod to the question and gently scoop up the – a quick check and a soft “no… don’t wool at speciaw pwace pwease!” tells you that you picked a filly.
After gently placing the fluffy into the top basket of the cart, you turn to approach the previous enclosure. “Now, how about some friends?” she speak cheerily, ignoring the cries and pleas now echoing from behind you. Sadly for them, they were not going to be said friends. Instead, you stand infront of the rainbow crowd, a hand on your hip.
“Okay-- let’s see. who should we–”
“STOOPID HOOMAN!! GIB SMAWTY NYU HOWSIES AND TOYSIES AND–” The fluffy is bright blue with a white main, a bit on the chunkier side ( most likely due to feeling entitled to all the food ). You scrunch your nose up at the site of him, but attempt not to scowl to hard. You really don’t want to deal with foal shit at the moment.
“Ah, perfect,” you reach out, snatching the so called “smarty” by the nape of his neck, earning a “owwies!! dun give smawty bad upsies!!” You unceremoniously plop the fluffy into the bottom basket of the cart, ignoring the pained chirp you receive.
After grabbing some things in the other aisles to set up a safe room that would moderately suffice, you approach the counter and pay for your purchases.
There’s no exchange of words between you and the employee as he scoops the foals into two separate boxes ( per your request ) and you’re finally able to leave and head home.
You ignore any shouts of sorry boxes or “huu-huuing” about the dark as you pull into your driveway and get out of your vehicle, ready to show the foals their life. Though, one would certainly be leagues better than the other. You’d make sure of it.
