Dr. Cassidy’s Personal Notes
After the last round of testing these smarties have wedged their way into my mind and won’t let go. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to butter up the guys in the breeding pits, but when I explained my plans they just laughed at me and told them I should’ve told them sooner. Apparently they have a mare that’s due for the incinerator after her last three litters contained either poor colored foals, runts, and (most importantly to me) foals with self centered attitudes and/or discipline issues. I got clearance from my bosses to set up a living quarters for her in my office to observe her and her foals behavior on the condition that any offspring that are viable for market be handed over upon maturity.
Sooooo, after a brief on fluffy delivery, post natal care, and a good supply of high nutrition Mummah’s Best brand kibble for milk production I’m now I’m in possession of a very pregnant fluffy. She was a little skittish to me at first but a couple head scritches and assuring her I wouldn’t hurt her changed her mind very fast and she thanked me the whole way to my office from saving her from the “meanie munstahs” and “sowwy boxies.”
Day One
Upon getting her settled into her new home (an old fish tank I had laying around fitted with a nest from an old throw blanket of mine, food bowl, water dispenser, and litterbox) I took stock of what I’ve got, a very healthy looking chocolate brown pegasus mare with a light blond mane. All of the cycling processes I’ve done has called these color a low priority and usually gets processed for feed and glue but it’s welcome to me. Her coat is much easier on the eyes than the normal neon color vomit I’m used to, plus she at least kinda resembles a horse which is what I thought was the whole point of this project. I gave her the talk the head breeder told me to reminding her to use the litter box, take care of all of her babies, and not to demand thing to which she nodded her head enthusiastically which caused her whole chubby body to bounce like a ball squealing “tank ‘ou fow nyu nices’ housie nices’ wady!” I couldn’t help but laugh and insist she call me Abby.
Day Three
I’ve always tried not to get attached to my subjects but having some company to my usual day to day makes me see why someone would want one of these. The last few mornings I’ve entered into an excited gasp and a “GUD BWITE TIME MUMMAH ABBI!” plus the (albeit very simple) conversation helps the day go by faster… plus, against my better judgement, yesterday I decided to name her Chestnut. After my morning routine of coffee, checking my email, change litter, and maternity test (which I long ago found always being whines of “nu touch miwkie pwaces” and “pwease nu wook at spechow pwace… is embawwassin…”) I determined she was due either sometime today or tomorrow.
While I usually try to keep an straight laced, professional attitude at work I was all smiles listening to her mummah songs and little wings fluttering in excitement. When I packed up for the day and turned her nightlight on, Chestnut begged me to stay to see the new arrivals but I promised her I would be back the next bright time and she could show me when I come back.
Day Four
Steven, our newest research assistant, must’ve stayed late last night cause he asked me about the racket coming from my office. I explained what was going on and why Chestnut was was in my office and he shot off some smartass remark about thinking it was me and another biologist exploring each others biology. He laughed. I did not. After an awkward moment of silence he asked what needed to be done for the day and I told him I’d get back with him, he’s always been like that, not bad enough I want to see the kid get fired, he’s just… really fucking weird.
As I walked down the hall I heard a noise coming from my office, and as I got closer I felt my blood go cold until eventually I felt my hands shaking when I heard Chestnut huuhuuing through my door. After my last go around with fluffy delivery I was a bit… anxious to say the least. Expecting the worse, I opened to door and got hit in the face with the distinctive smell of afterbirth and scardy poopies and saw a much smaller Chestnut curled in a ball in her tank.
Fortunately I’ve gotten used to the smell after assisting with labors before but my eyes watered as I reach in and softly stroked her now wet and matted fur asking her what was wrong. “N-n-nufin wong Mummah Abbi huuuu… p-pwomise,” I told her everything was ok and asked if I could see her babies and she just shook her head. “Siwwy mummah, nu am tiem fow babbehs now… d-dey stiww in Ches’nuh’s tummeh!” I looked her in the eyes and told her I knew they were there and almost on cue a small peep came from her belly fluff, then the hysterics started again.
More soft petting more reassurance and she finally spoke up again. “Mummah Abbi gunna take babbehs ‘way an Ches’nuh nebah hic nebah gonna see dem ‘gain!” She looked up at me with big, sad, pitiful eyes and I asked if she remembered the rules and she could keep these babies until they were fully grown.
“Weawy?”
“Yes, really”
“Weawy Weawy?!”
“Yes sweetie, really really”
She uncurled from her ball and hugged my hand as hard as she could with happy tears in her eyes before excitedly showing me her new foals. There were five healthy foals in total: a brown pegasus filly I named Cocoa, two light blue earthy stallions named Aqua and Marine, a grey unicorn filly named Smokey, and an orange unicorn named Rusty. After a much needed bath and tank cleaning along with a generous amount of air freshener I gave Chestnut her babies back. My boss, Dr. Anderson, came by later to see the foals which Chestnut was more than happy to show off. When she showed him Rusty she told him he was her bestest baby, when I asked her what that meant she babbled about not knowing why, she just knew he was. We excused ourself to the hall where I got a stern reminder these were test subjects and not pets, but I assured Anderson it was to simulate behavior in their natural environment and already having a favorite was a start and to give it time.
Playtime’s over old girl, time to roll up the sleeves and get to work.
