You can guess that ten years is a very long time for a fluffy pony to live. I remember feeling a sense of dread overcome me on the day of his tenth birthday. By this time Ian had long grown into a fully sized fluffy. He maintained as healthy a frame as he could have for his species and loved exploring the little garden we had outside. There was once a time when he enjoyed running around but nowadays his legs were much too feeble for that. I usually had to pick him up if he had the exploring itch. Aside from that it was just the two of us living together in our little home.
Then he turned twelve. Things got a lot different by that time. I had awakened from my bed and looked over to the special little cushion I had for Ian. By age ten he was having difficulty controlling his bowels and so I bought a dog-sized bed for him to sleep in next to me in case there were any more. The top of his head had begun to grow into a light shade of grey. He also fell into deeper sleeps that were sometimes very difficult to get him out of.
”Hey!” I whispered while pushing my finger against his snout. “It’s your big day today!”
Ian’s eyes slowly opened and he looked around as if in a daze.
“Wha? Wha day?”
I gave a soft laugh. He never knew when his birthday was but always got excited when I told him.
“Your birthday!” I said with a loud but genuine cheerfulness.
Ian jumped up from his cushion and smiled widely at me as his increasingly wispy tail swished from side to side. He would have done a little dance in his younger years but now his legs were much too weak for that. Nowadays he would gently tap his hooves against a surface to show excitement.
“Ian am su cited fo birfday!” he squealed. “Ian gon habe wots o cakies an sketti an….an……an……?” Ian’s face scrunched as he struggled to identify what it was he was referring to.
“Balloons?” I added.
The look of concern left Ian’s face after hearing the word. “Yus! Dat wat ian mean! Teehee! Daddeh am su smawties!”
I picked him up carefully as he squealed with delight. Walking through the house with him was always a trip down memory lane. His little drawings were posted all over the fridge. The ones that stood out the most stayed on longest. There was one showing a bunch of sticks in what appeared to be grass with lots of stick figures throwing circles. That was from the time I took him to a baseball game. Our local mascot is Chuck the Fluffy and Ian got a kick out of meeting him in person.
Then there was the picture of the two of us and a third person with longish hair. That had been my short-lived fling with a woman I met while gardening outside. She was our mail carrier and for a time she would stay around and visit.
Ian waddled over to his specially filled bowls as I took in a deep sigh. How had so much happened in such a short amount of time?
“MMF! TANK YU DADDEH! IAN WUB BESTEST NUMMIES! AM WUCKIEST FWUFFY EBAH!” His usual kibble had some chunks of cinnamon roll in it. He loved the stuff and could eat a mountain of it if he could.
”Only the best for the birthday boy!”
Ian let out a snort and then turned to me. “Teehee Ian am bestest……uh……um….wat was wowd gain?”
I felt my lips curve into a frown at this. “Do you mean…birthday?”
”Oh yeah! Dat’s what Ian mean!” He giggled.
Something didn’t sit right with me about that. I know he was getting older but Ian was pretty sharp for a fluffy. He still would ask about my ex from time to time. Most fluffies would have forgotten after a month of absence. It wasn’t like him to forget words. I told myself it was just an overly paranoid thought. There were still some steps that had to be made for his birthday.
“Hey, Ian!”
He looked at me with his entire mouth covered in pieces of cinnamon rolls.
“Daddy’s going to the store to get you some balloons, presents, and sketti for your birthday celebration tonight!”
”Yayyy!” Ian did his little hoof tapping dance again. “Dis am bestest day ebah! Su many heawt happies!”
He was so happy that he tried to kick his back legs out but struggled to lift them off the ground. I just smiled and brushed his mane before walking out the door. Ian was a very trustworthy fluffy. He didn’t really have a saferoom at this point because he had gained my trust to move around the house however he wanted. There were multiple litter boxes throughout the house just in case one of them was too far for him. The toys he had were all in one specific room next to the kitchen. Everything he needed was within a short walking distance.
I turned to look at Ian one last time before leaving and noticed him flat on his side in front of the back window. He would do this all the time during the summer to sunbathe.
While Spencer was out, Ian occupied himself with his toys. They were what one would typically find in any household with fluffies plus a few extra for older fluffies like a little car that helped him move to different rooms faster. Many years had passed and the toys were showing wear and tear, but there was one that Ian always found himself going to and that was the blocks. Fluffies enjoy having a routine that’s familiar and predictable. How much a fluffy stacks blocks can be a reflection of how comfortable or stressed they are. In this case it was a little of both.
Ian had been finding things more difficult lately and it was beginning to frustrate him. His leggies wouldn’t always work and it meant Daddeh had to carry him everywhere. Other times he couldn’t see or hear as well and this made it harder to enjoy looking outside like he used to. The worst of all was how he had trouble remembering things. Simple words like birthday were escaping him and so were recent events. In fact, Ian had forgotten why his Daddeh left in the first place.
”Daddeh?” Ian called out. “Am ou otay? Ian am scawdie! No knu whewe Daddeh gu!”