Lovesick - part 7
“Just who I wanted to see!” Rachel opened the crate on the receptionist desk and pulled out Jimi. “Oh, my favorite fluffy ever!” She pulled him into a hug, which he didn’t quite respond to. “What’s wrong Jimi? Is your mommy not being nice to you?”
Jimi sniffled, hiding half his face behind his one front leg, “Jimi wuz bad fwuffy. Nu wan mummah to hab saddies!”
Rachel scratched at Jimi’s chest while Sammy shook her head. “You gotta be a good boy for Sammy, okay?”
Softly, still trying to hide his face, “…yus…”
“And if you are a good boy I’ll give you a treat,” Rachel knew exactly why he was here and tried to make this easier.
“… Yus…” He wouldn’t open his eyes.
“Can you keep him company? I’ve gotta go talk to Dr Cheryl first.”
Rachel hugged Jimi, “absolutely!” Rachel put Jimi onto the desk, “I heard you can count! Is that true? Can you show me? I heard you are such a smart boy.”
Sammy caught a peek at Rachel’s shocked face as Jimi started counting in Spanish.
With a soft knock on the open door, Dr Cheryl Clark waved Sammy in. “Jimi isn’t taking this well, is he?”
“Well…” Sammy shrugged, “no. He’s upset that a feral came to the fence asking for food and Jimi was ready to jump her through the fence. She was a very pretty teal color, but, I don’t want to deal with that many fluffies. I’m not a breeder. And, in about an hour, he won’t be either.” She smirked.
“You’re prepared for the possible depression? It’s not uncommon for neutered adults to react poorly.” Cheryl tapped her finger on the desk, “does he still have a good relationship with Mocha?”
“For the most part.” Sammy paused for a moment, “Mocha was pretty upset when she found him, twice, fucking 'Tuffy. She’ll get over it. Might need to get them a new stuffed animal or two afterwards. Ya know, she stopped treating that stuffed bear like a baby.”
“Oh really? That was fast. How’d you manage that?” The quick turn around of Mocha’s personality was surprising.
“You know I wouldn’t beat them or anything. I told her that she’s my baby and babies can’t have babies.” Not necessarily far from the truth, it was a very simplified answer with some bits missing.
“Huh… Maybe she’s smarter than we gave her credit for.” Cheryl mused.
“Oh, she’s much less smarter than you thought,” Sammy giggled. “But she’s still a good girl. Can we fit her procedure in tomorrow?”
“Should be fine. Since you’re working tomorrow, bring her with you. Are you going to assist on both procedures?”
“Yeah, it’ll help if I’m there.” Because of the regulations around fluffies not being treated as animals, some common procedures can be performed by the veterinarian technicians. Sammy could, legally, perform the neutering on her own. Happy Paws leaves the more technical issues to the doctors. “Will you do the main work today?” Sammy pantomimed scooping and making a popping sound.
“I most certainly can, you’ll prep and close him up. I’ll do the snip and scoop, as you so eloquently put it.”
“Okay, Jimi, I need you to be a very very good boy. You gotta be careful and do everything we tell you, or you’ll have the worse owies, and that’ll give me even worse heart owies, okay?” Mummah rolled Jimi onto his back.
He looked up at mummah, “Otay… Jimi wub mummah, an Jimi sowwy fow bein bad fwuffy.” He waved his front leg as if begging for hugs.
“I’m sorry too, baby. This is gonna be cold, but you gotta be brave.”
Jimi shivered and felt a very very off sensation around his lumps. “Mummah? Nu tuch wumps, nee dose fow spechul huggies, nu fow mummah!” He tried to squirm from the cold thing rubbing his skin, he didn’t understand why his no-no area was getting so cold.
“Jimi, you need to stay sti-”
Jimi bucked against the table and self something sharp and hot against his most delicate flesh, “screeeeeee! Pwease stahp! Mummah, pwease sowwy!”
His eyes were closed, Jimi didn’t want to see what terrible things were being done to him. Suddenly his head was cradled by mummah’s hand, when he finally opened his eyes, mummah had the saddest look, sadder than before. “Jimi, sweetie,” he watched his mummah wince in pain, “owies!” She clutched at her chest, “every time you fight, every time you beg me to stop it’s giving me the worse heart owies. Baby, you gotta stop fighting.”
“Muh-mummah hab mowe owies?” His eyes went wide, giving mummah owies, especially heart owies was the worst thing ever. As worse as whatever was happening to his lumps. "Nu, mummah, pwease! Nu mowe heawt owwies!
Sammy sniffled as she put the belt around his chest and secured all three of his legs. “You gotta stay still, okay? Otherwise this will be the biggest owies, understand?”
Jimi nodded, even if the upside down view of everything was confusing him. “Jimi be gud fwuffy… Nu wan mummah hab heawt owwies.” He tried to watch as mummah reached back to his wumps and everything felt cold and now slightly wet. The cold area was getting bigger and bigger. “Mummah? Pwease nu mowe cowdies? Nunu pwace nu feew gud.”
“Arrrrggghh!” Jimi’s head whipped around to see mummah with a pained expression clutching her chest.
“Mummah? MUMMAH!? SOWWY PWEASE! PWEASE NU MOWE HEAWT OWIES! JIMI SOWWY JIMI SOWWY! JIMI NU MOWE ASK FOW WUMPS!”
Mummah stood straight and wiped a year away, “Jimi, baby,” she gently petted his chest, “if you don’t stop you’ll make mummah have forever sleepies…”
Jimi gasped and shook his head, afraid to even speak. The thought of causing mummah so much pain was beyond anything his brain could comprehend. If he lost mummah he would lose Mocha. And 'Tuffy. The nummies, the housie, everything.
Jimi didn’t notice Dr Cheryl walk in, “okay, big guy, this will be over quick. Topical.” His no-no area went colder and tingled, and then… Nothing. He didn’t feel anything. “This will just be a little pinch, it’ll be over quick,” Dr Cheryl’s words of comfort mostly ignored.
Then the pinch. It wasn’t a pinch. It felt like his most sensitive space was stabbed with a hot knife. It wasn’t quick either, as it lasted at least four forevers. He couldn’t stop, a chirp escaped his mouth “chirp!” Followed by a sharp gasp, “sowwy mummah! Sowwy! Jimi be gud, pwease be otay mummah!”
He didn’t see Cheryl shoot Sammy a questioning look, to which she responded with a shrug. Jimi managed to remain silent through the whole procedure, which was only about five minutes, but felt like forever for him.
“Go ahead and sew him up, good job, Sammy.” When the door closed he heard his mummah humming a soft song while he felt tugging around his bits, or where his bits used to be.
“Such a brave boy.” Sammy removed the straps and rolled Jimi back over. “Are you ready to go home?”
With bloodshot eyes, he nodded. She set the carrier in front of him and he carefully climbed in, laying down with his back to the opening.
“Does Jimi want that treat I promised?” Rachel asked while shaking the premium spaghetti flavored treats, the treats reserved for the bestest fluffies that made their way through. He looked back at her and put his head back down. “He’s pretty upset. Give it a few days, he’ll be all better.”
The ride home was uneventful, as quiet as Jimi normally was, this trip he was exceptionally quiet. It was the noise when she pulled the crate from the back seat that got her attention.
“That’s…” She looked around at the trees, then eyeing the back yard, “that’s not a bird chirping.”
She brought Jimi to the safe room and he crawled out to lay on his bed. Very softly, “tank yu mummah… Sowwy Jimi bad fwuffy, nu wan mummah hab foweba sweepies…”
“Mocha, you can’t play with Jimi right now, but you can give him hugs if he wants.” The brown pegasus watched as Sammy closed the door on the two.
“Now, what the heck is going on back here?” She didn’t need to search long, as a black foal was chirping and trying to crawl through the grass. He had no direction, no path he was making, if anything he was just crawling in circles. His eyes were still closed. “Huh. Do you remember me?”
The foal stopped chirping at her voice and lifted his head. It wasn’t a fast crawl, as the most distance he needed to cover had been from his mother’s back to her teat. But he tried to go to Sammy’s voice. She held her hand out in front of the still blind foal, his tiny muzzle bumping into her finger. A tiny pink tongue stuck out and brushed against the top of her finger, he peeped and tried to latch on, suckling.
“Aww, you’re still such a cutie. You must be hungry, huh?” She put on a sickeningly sweet singsong voice, “little baby need nummies and love and hugs? Does little baby need a mummah?”
The foal peeped as she pulled her hand away, the foal stumbled on his weak legs, face planting into the grass. After several distressed chirps he started crawling towards her again. And again it tried to latch onto her finger desperate for milk.
And again she pulled her hand away. “You need me, don’t you? But… What if I don’t want to be your mummah? What if I don’t want you at all?” She suspected the foal didn’t understand a word she said, but he still struggled through the grass towards her. Each time she pulled away, taking away the warmth and comfort of her hand, he struggled to follow.
Finally, Sammy scooped up the black pegasus foal in both hands. “Well fuck…”
