“Huuhuuhuu, daddeh,” the dark blue, orange-maned earthy fluffy sobbed, tears rolling down his already sopping wet cheeks. “Why daddeh nu wuv Tywew nu mowe?”
“Fucking Christ,” Dennis sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you? I love you. But I’m not letting you in the bathroom with me when I take a shit. That’s private time.”
“HUUHUUHUUUUUUU,” Tyler sobbed even harder. “Daddeh say bad wowdsies! Su bad wowdsies! Nu am gud fow Tywew heaw-pwaces!”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Dennis had been lonely. Really fucking lonely. He lived alone in a three-bedroom house, and the solitude had really been starting to get to him. Oh, he hadn’t been lonely a year ago. He’d been living with his girlfriend and his cat, Spike. Then the coronavirus shit hit, all the social venues shut the hell down, and he started working from home. For a while he didn’t see friends or co-workers at all, just his girlfriend, Spike, and random masked strangers when he went to make a grocery run.
Then things got weird. His girlfriend, Sara, started reading some really weird conspiracy theory forums and started spouting some really crazy shit. The weirder it got, the angrier she’d get when Dennis wouldn’t believe whatever the conspiracy of the day was. Finally she accused him of being a secret government agent and insisted that he was some sort of a lizard person. The conversation that night was crazy, and he knew that he was going to have to break up with her, but it wasn’t as crazy as waking up later that night to find Sara straddling his chest with a knife in her hand, mumbling about how she was going to “get the tracking chip out of him.”
One restraining order later, Dennis was single and ready to put all the shit behind him. Which was, of course, when Spike died. Just old age, the vet said. Nothing he could have done, really.
None of his friends really wanted to do much in the way of social gatherings. Sure, they said, they’d be up for it once the vaccine was more widespread. Once things calmed down more. He’d hang out with one or two people at a time, usually outdoors, but things really weren’t the same. He spent almost all of his time alone, and his house was quiet and empty all the time. Eventually it really started to get to him.
Which is when one of his friends, Scott, suggested that he get a fluffy. A pet that he could have a conversation with! Win/win, right? Not only would he not be lonely, but it’d almost be like having another person there with him all the time, except instead of a person it’d be a weird genetically engineered pig-horse thing that sounded like it was made out of helium.
That’s how Dennis had wound up at the FluffMart on a Friday night, looking for a fluffy to adopt. He’d turned the third bedroom into a safe room. He’d loaded it up with fluffy necessities and all sorts of toys. He’d fluffy-proofed all the power outlets in the house just in case he decided to let the fluffy roam a bit, and had moved anything that might be hazardous that was at fluffy level.
Tyler had caught his eye. He was curled up in the corner of a foal pen, quietly crying to himself. Dennis thought hey, it looks like he’s lonely! Dennis identified with that loneliness, and it made his heart break for the little foal. He’d walked over, had a short conversation with the fluffy, and ten minutes later he was on his way home with the newly christened Tyler. To his credit, the FluffMart employee did try to warn Dennis that Tyler was “kind of really super emotional,” but Dennis thought that was probably an exaggeration. Sure, they’re emotional creatures. His life probably hadn’t been super great so far, and that had made him sad. Now he had a new daddy and was going to a new home, and he was crying out of sheer overwhelming happiness, right? He’d get Tyler home and things would calm down after a couple of days.
Ha. If only.
“Tyler,” he said sternly. “I’m not going to stop using words you don’t like, so you really need to get used to them. We’ve talked about this before.”
“Daddeh am maddies wif Tywew? Daddeh haf meanie voice!” The chubby colt was sobbing uncontrollably, and Dennis noticed that snot was starting to drip from his nostrils.
“Tyler, please stop crying. I’m not mad. I just really, really need for you to stop crying and start, I don’t know, learning some things instead of sobbing like a wreck every time something happens to you.”
“Daddeh fink dat Tywew nu weawn fings, daddeh…daddeh fink dat Tywew am DUMMEH STOOOPI FWUFFY HUUUUUUUUUU!” He collapsed in a heap on the floor, curling up into a ball and shuddering as fresh sobs wracked his rotund little body.
God fucking damn it.
“Tyler, stop it. Please, for the love of God and all that is holy, I need you to stop crying, okay?”
“Huuhuuhuuhuuhuuuuuuuuuuuu, why daddeh hate Tywew?” His voice was muffled due to his snout being pressed into his fluff. He wouldn’t uncurl himself and look at his daddy; he was too intent and focused on crying, on clinging to all of the negative things he’d imagined that Dennis thought and felt.
“I don’t hate you. We’ve been through this. I love you, but man, you’re making it really difficult.”
“Tywew nu mean tu be bad fwuffy, huuuuuuu. Huuhuuhuuuuuu. Wan be gud fwuffy. Nu wan su many heawt huwties.”
Dennis sighed. “Little dude, you give your heart hurties to yourself. This is all on you. It’s not my fault that you won’t respect boundaries, that you blow every single thing out of proportion, that your default state is uncontrollably sobbing, that…are you even listening to me, Tyler? Does it even matter that I’m saying words?”
“Huuuuuuuu, daddeh hate Tywew an fink dat Tywew am huuuuuuuu wowstest fwuffy EVAH, huuhuuhuuuuu, daddeh gon gif Tywew fowevah-sweepies an get gud fwuffy instead, huuhuuuuuuuuu!”
“Great talk as usual, Tyler.” Dennis walked out of the safe room and left the foal to sob himself into dehydration.
He didn’t know what else to say or do. The fluffy forums hadn’t been very helpful; everyone suggested euthanization as the only option. Everyone was sure that the little colt was irreparably broken. Even most of the abusers, for once, weren’t suggesting abuse. What fun would it be to torture a fluffy when all you had to do to make it cry and beg and totally lose its shit was to say “fuck” in a conversational tone of voice? Or look slightly upset when making eye contact? Or walk out of its field of view, making it think you were abandoning it? When every single thing in the world made a fluffy cry, where was the fun? Where was the challenge?
It had been two weeks, and it had been a constant festival of tears from the moment Dennis picked him out at the FluffMart. Things just seemed to get worse as he matured from a foal into a colt. Tyler cried when he got his name. He cried when he saw his new home, cried when he saw his safe room. Cried when he realized the toys were all for him. Cried when he bounced one of the balls and it hit the wall, rebounded, and smacked lightly into his face. Cried when the litterbox wasn’t exactly like the one at FluffMart. Cried when he took a shit because he almost hadn’t made it to the litterbox and had almost made bad poopies, then cried afterwards because “poopies nu smeww pwetty.” Cried when his kibble tasted like spaghetti, then cried when he thought about spaghetti and was convinced that he was never going to get to actually have it. Cried with joy when Tyler gave him canned spaghetti, cried in dismay because he thought it was the only time he’d ever get to taste it, then cried because his daddy hadn’t cooked it for him from scratch. Cried when Dennis cooked spaghetti from scratch, cried when he ate it because it was so delicious, then cried because it tasted different from the canned spaghetti and he didn’t understand why. Cried when he couldn’t go outside by himself, then cried when Dennis took him outside because the outside was “su scawy.” Cried that he didn’t have any friends, then cried when Dennis took him to a local fluffy park to meet other fluffies and make new friends. Cried when any of the other fluffies tried to talk to him, absolutely sobbed when any tried to hug him. Cried when he saw babies on FluffTV because they were so cute, then cried because he didn’t have any babies. Cried when Dennis told him that he was too young to have babies, then cried when he realized he was too young to even have a special friend. Cried when…
Thump.
Dennis was pulled from his thoughts.
Thump. Thump.
It was coming from the safe room. Sighing again, Dennis got up from the couch and walked down the hall, opening the door just in time to make Tyler miss the door entirely and come tumbling out into the hallway. Which, of course, brought a fresh bout of crying.
“HUUUUU! Dummeh Tywew nu can even du dat wight, nao haf weggie huwties an head huwties an heawt huwties! Huuuuuuu!” The fluffy rolled around on the floor, kicking his legs wildly as he entered full tantrum mode.
“There is no way you hurt your legs, you little pussy.”
“Huuhuuuuuu! Meanie wowds!”
“Oh, shut up. Why were you throwing yourself at the door like that?”
“Tywew am su bad fwuffy, desewf huwties, su am makin huwties su can be bettah fwuffy.” At least he’d stopped his tantrum to give the explanation.
“Are you serious? You’re hurting yourself so you can what, knock all that stupid shit out of your little idiot head?”
“Huuuu! Mowe meanie wowdsies, huuuuu!” And kicking his legs, Tyler was back into full tantrum mode again.
“Tyler, stop it for a second!”
“Nuuuuhuuuhuuuuuu, daddeh say Tywew am dummeh an nao am haf wowd maddie voicie! Daddeh hate Tywew! TYWEW hate Tywew!”
“You’re worse than my ex, you know that? And that crazy fucking bitch almost stabbed me.”
“Huuuuuuuu, daddeh say…”
“I know, bad words, mean words, whatever. Look, you’ve got to stop doing this. There’s no excuse for this. I’ve given you everything that pretty much any fluffy would kill to have, and all you do is cry and whine and mope around while complaining about everything. I can’t take it, Tyler. Every man has his limits.”
“Daddeh hate Tywew, daddeh hate Tywew, huuuuuuuuu DADDEH HATE TYWEW, HUUUUUUU DADDEH HATE…”
Dennis reached down and picked the thrashing fluffy off the floor, holding him up to face height. “Look at me, Tyler.”
“Nuuuuhuuhuuhuuuuuu, bad upsies!”
“Yeah yeah, bad upsies.” He shook the fluffy a little, eliciting a shriek and a startled fart. “Look. At. Me.”
The fluffy made eye contact, and Dennis groaned. Tyler’s face was absolutely soaked with tears, the fluff matted and dark and wet. His snout was slathered in tears and snot and tears mixed with snot. He kept sniffling, which brought some of the snot back into his snout, but then it was dripping back down his throat. Drip, sniffle, cough cough. Drip, sniffle, cough. His eyes were bloodshot and miserable. He’d gone limp in his daddy’s hands, and his breathing was hitched as he tried to keep from crying or making his daddy mad. He kept looking down, then back up at Dennis, then back down again. He was an absolute wreck.
“Tyler, you have to stop crying all the time, okay? I love you. I don’t know how to make it any clearer to you that I love you.”
Sniffle, cough. “Daddeh…daddeh wuv Tywew?”
“I do.”
“Tywew nu am bad fwuffy?”
“No, you’re not a bad fluffy.”
“Daddeh nu wan Tywew haf fowevah-sweepies?”
“No, I do not want you to have forever-sleepies.”
The fluffy looked confused and wriggled a little in Dennis’s hands. “Dat make Tywew su happies, daddeh.”
“Yeah? Happy? No heart hurties, huh?”
“Tywew stiww haf heawt huwties, buh dem heawt huwties nu am dat bad nu mowe.”
“I guess that’s progress. Hey, what do you say we get you cleaned up a bit and then maybe we can watch some TV?”
“Cweaned up?”
Dennis nodded. “You need a bath, dude. You look like…”
“NU WAN BAFF, DADDEH! WAWA AM BAD FO FWUFFIES! NUUUUUUHUUHUUHUUUUUUUUUUU!”
Dennis’s grip tightened around the screaming, sobbing colt. “Are you fucking kidding me? Tyler! Stop crying! You’ve had baths before and you [i]know they’re not a big deal!”
“Daddeh am huwtin poow widdwe Tywew,” the fluffy gasped dramatically, kicking against his daddy’s grip and pissing himself in fear. “Daddeh nu wuv Tywew! Daddeh hate Tywew huuhuuhuuuuuuu!”
Piss ran down Dennis’s arm as Tyler lost himself in more uncontrollable, inconsolable sobbing again, and Dennis bit back a stream of profanity. Instead he stepped into the safe room, tossed Tyler into his nest, and walked away again, shutting the door behind him. He’d clean the blankets and the nest later, once the fluffy had calmed down.
Fuck it. Let him slam his head into the door until he knocks himself unconscious. At least I’ll get a few hours of peace.
===
A few hours later everything was clean again. Tyler had worn himself out with his tantrum and was only able to offer up very mild resistance while being bathed. He didn’t even have the energy to cry. Instead, he spent the entire time making soft, sad sounds and muttering miserably to himself. Dennis didn’t care, didn’t try to apologize, and didn’t try to console him. He’d had enough bullshit. Weeks of the same shit over and over and over again, weeks of dealing with a fluffy who refused to handle even a single situation without resorting to crying. Sometimes happy crying, yeah, but even the happy crying always quickly gave way to the sad crying. It was only a matter of minutes. And nothing Dennis could do seemed to matter. Nothing was ever fixed. Tyler never changed. If Dennis was sweet and nice and positive? Tyler cried. If Dennis was stern? Tyler cried. If Dennis got annoyed and used “meanie words?” Tyler cried. If Dennis gave up and walked away from the situation? Tyler cried.
If he was being totally honest with himself, Dennis didn’t really love Tyler. He wanted to love the little fluffy. He was trying to, he really was. But Tyler was making it pretty much impossible with his constant whining and crying. Fluffies were supposed to be cheerful, more or less. They were supposed to be friendly and happy and social. They were supposed to have a wider range of emotions than “mildly happy about something and teary-eyed over it” and “devastated and inconsolable and sobbing for hours.” But that’s all Tyler seemed capable of and it was really starting to drive Dennis crazy. Sure, he told the fluffy that he loved him. He wanted Tyler to believe it because it should make him happy, right? It should make him feel secure and appreciated. But it didn’t. It didn’t work, not even when Tyler seemed to actually sort of believe it. Nothing worked.
Dennis laid Tyler down in his nest again and sat on the floor, looking down at the dejected fluffy.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, trying to keep his voice as positive as possible. “What are we going to about all of this? Because this isn’t good for either of us.”
“Tywew am sowwy fo be bad fwuffy, daddeh.” He kept his eyes focused on the floor, refusing to look up. He sighed a deep little sigh. “Tywew am wowst fwuffy evah.”
“Don’t you start that again. You’re not a bad fluffy. I just don’t understand why you’re like this and I don’t know how to help you feel better.”
“Tywew nu knu why heawt-huwties am su baddies, buh dem am su baddies aww da time.” Tears started to form in his eyes and he trembled. He let out a very soft “huu.”
“No, no no no. No. Don’t you dare cry on me again, Tyler.”
Another soft “huu” and a sniffle. “Buh daddeh…”
“No. No crying. You need to control yourself.”
“Tywew am sowwy.” Barely audible.
“Tyler, look at me.”
“Nu.”
“Tyler, look at me right now.”
“Nu wan.”
“So this is how it’s going to be, then? You’re just going to cry all the time and refuse to even look at me?”
“Huuuuuu.” Tyler shoved his head under a blanket. “Gu way, daddeh. Jus gu way.”
“I’m your daddy. You’re supposed to do what I tell you to do. You know that, right? Good fluffies do what their humans tell them to do, or else they’re supposed to get punished.”
“Nuuuuuuuu,” wailed Tyler, shuddering and burrowing under the blankets. “Pwease nu gif Tywew huwties! Nu gif sowwy stick! Nu put Tywew in dawkie sowwy boxie! Am sowwy, Tywew am su sowwy daddeh, pwease nuuuhuuhuuhuuHUUHUUHUUUUUUU!” He was wailing again, locked in a full-on meltdown. He was thrashing, kicking his legs under the blankets. Dennis just watched, silently, as tears started to soak through the light blue blanket over the fluffy’s head.
“Righty-o, then. I guess it’s back to the forums to see if anyone’s got any advice.” Dennis stood up and made his way to the door. “Glad we could have this super productive talk, buddy.”
“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Dennis shut the door behind him and headed to the computer. Maybe there were some new replies. Maybe someone had some advice.
===
“You can’t really give stuff like Xanax or Valium to fluffies, even in small doses. Something about their biology makes them react to drugs differently. Sedatives work, so do painkillers. But that’s about it, and the effects don’t last long. Their body burns through them really fast. Put anything else in them and it’s anyone’s guess as to what the reaction’s going to be. Your fluffy is broken, man, and there’s no fixing him unless you try to do a reset - which kills them nine times out of ten. Sorry, dude.”
That had been his last good idea, trying to get some anti-anxiety meds from a fluffy vet. But nope, not possible thanks to the mad scientists who’d just cobbled all sorts of shit together and apparently hoped for the best. Now Dennis had a perpetually overly-emotional fluffy on his hands and absolutely no way to help the little bundle of nerves out.
Dennis cracked the door to the safe room open and peeked inside. There was no movement from the nest. “Tyler? You okay in there?”
“Tywew am hungwy, daddeh.” The fluffy’s voice was muffled by the blankets, but it sounded just as miserable as always.
“Sure, it’s almost time for dinner. I’ll grab some food for you.”
“Wan sketties.”
Dennis chuckled. “Ohhhhhh no, you’re definitely not getting sketties. Not after the attitude you’ve given me today.”
Tyler’s head peeked out from under the blankets. “Buh Tywew WAN sketties, daddeh!”
“Then I guess it sucks to be you, doesn’t it? Because you’re getting kibble. Kibble that does taste like sketties, which should count for something. But until you can start listening to me and doing what I tell you to do, you’re not getting sketties.”
“Dat nu am faiw!” the fluffy shouted, his high-pitched voice going just a little higher.
“How’s it not fair? You’re lucky I didn’t put you in the sorry box after the tantrum you threw earlier, after you pissed all over me.”
“Buh Tywew nu mean tu make scawedy-peepees!”
“I know, but you still threw a giant diaper baby tantrum, and I’m tired of it. Next time you’re getting punished.”
“Nu faiw! Nu faiw! Daddeh an MEANIE daddeh! Tywew nu wan kibbow! Tywew WAN SKETTIES!”
“Oh yeah? You keep that shit up and you’re not getting any food at all.”
“Daddeh HATE Tywew! Wan Tywew tu haf wowstest tummeh-huwties and fowevah-sweepies! Huuuuuuuu!”
“Uh huh. If you say so, dude. I’ll be back with your food in a few minutes.”
Dennis left the room, but he could hear Tyler screaming and crying all the way down the hall and even from the kitchen. He was really leaning into it with all his energy, just totally going for it. Dennis filled a cup with the soft kibble and stood there for a few minutes just listening to a fluffy completely and utterly losing his shit. Dennis couldn’t make out all of the words that were being said, partly because the words kept getting broken up by sobs. He could make out, however, that Tyler thought life was unfair and everything was terrible. That included his mean daddy who wouldn’t give him the things he wanted. Which was weird, since Dennis had been trying to give Tyler the things he said he wanted. It’s just that nothing was ever good enough, nothing lived up to the fluffy’s expectations, and everything eventually made him overwhelmingly sad.
Oh, well. He’d keep trying until he couldn’t try anymore. Then what? Dennis didn’t know. There wasn’t really any way he could re-home Tyler; nobody was going to willingly adopt a total wreck of a fluffy unless they were seriously weird hugboxers to the point that they wanted to suffer nonstop for a fluffy that didn’t even care about their suffering. Let him loose on the streets? Maybe, but there’s no way he’d last a full day out there. Maybe euthanize him. That seemed to be the most humane thing. Maybe try the reset first, though. Yeah, it might kill him. But if he’s about to be put down anyway, why not try the reset just in case?
He re-entered the safe room and dumped the food into Tyler’s empty bowl. “Here you go, dude. Eat up.”
“NU WAN! HUUHUUHUUUUUU!”
“Well that’s fuckin’ fine, don’t eat it. It’s all the food you’re getting until you do eat it. The choice is yours. Choose wisely!”
“WAN SKETTIES! TYWEW WAN SKETTIES AN DIS NU AM FAIHUUHUUHUUUUUUU!”
“Life’s not fair, man. It’s not fair that the last few months have sucked serious ass for me, and that in trying to give you a good home I managed to fuck myself over and find myself some more shit to suffer through. You can eat your fucking kibble. In the grand scheme of things it’s not remotely a big deal, and you’re not even listening to me because you’re too busy screaming, huh?”
“NU AM FAIW! NU AM FAIW!”
“Great rebuttal. You’d be a great lawyer. Anyway, eat the kibble, don’t eat it, what the fuck ever. I’m going to go price stun guns because I’m pretty sure I’m going to be trying a fun experiment on you in less than a week.”
Tyler ran over to the bowl and kicked it, scattering most of the kibble on to the floor. “DUMMEH KIBBOW! TAKE DAT! HUUUUUUUU! HUUHUU!”
“Aces, good job. Now you get to eat most of it off the floor.”
“Nummy boww am su meanies, why nu gif sketties?” He kicked it again, scattering all but a few remaining pieces of the kibble.
“Cool, cool. Well, you enjoy that.”
As he was getting ready to leave the room, Dennis froze. Tyler was all but ignoring his daddy, focusing his rage instead on the food dish. He was screaming, tears rolling freely over his soaked cheek fluff and dripping on to the floor. And in his anger, in his frustration, he started to do something even weirder than slamming his head into the door - he screamed at his food bowl, smashed his face into it, then screamed and cried when it hurt.
“HUUUUUUU! WHY NUMMY BOWW HUWT TYWEW? MEANIE BOWW! TAKE OWWIES AN GIF SKETTIES TU TYWEW OW GET MOWE OWWIES!” Tyler slammed his face into the bowl again, scattering all the remaining kibble and hurting himself again in the process. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it was enough to make his snout sore.
“Holt shit,” Dennis muttered. “He really thinks he can force the bowl to give him spaghetti?”
“Why meanie boww keep huwtin poow wittwe Tywew?” the fluffy whined. “Huu, nu gif huwties, huuuuuu. Take huwties!” One more slam into the bowl and he was done, falling back on the floor and rubbing his snout with his front hooves. “Tywew am su huwties, huuuuuuuuu! Su huwties! Nu faiw! Nuhuuhuuuuuuuu!” His front hooves rubbing his snout, his back legs kicking as he melted down into nothing but sobs, Tyler was totally lost in his own miserable little world again.
Dennis stepped out and shut the door behind him.
“Maybe it’s time for a drink.”
===
Bright and early the next morning, Dennis decided to take a nice long shower and have breakfast before checking in on Tyler. He wanted to be nice and relaxed before seeing what kind of shit the fluffy was going to pull today. He waited a little longer than normal, but not too long - he knew if he waited too long he’d be in for a hell of a tantrum.
He cracked the safe room door open. “Hey, buddy. You sleep woooohhhhhh holy shit.”
Tyler had not, in fact, slept that night. The kibble was still scattered all over the floor; it looked like none of it had been touched. Instead, Tyler had apparently kept trying to punish his food bowl into submission while, at the same time, sobbing his fucking heart out. The fluffy was still there, his face buried in the empty dish.
Well, not empty. As Dennis pried Tyler’s cold corpse away from the bowl he could see water in the bottom. Enough that the fluffy’s face was soaking wet.
Enough that he’d managed to drown himself.
He cried so goddamned much that he drowned himself in his own tears.
As he went to get a garbage bag for the corpse and a broom and dustpan to clean up, Dennis reflected on everything that had happened to lead up to this point. All of his life choices. All of his decisions. Maybe he could sell of this fluffy stuff, strip the safe room bare again, and cut his losses. Maybe he’d get another cat. Cats didn’t usually drown themselves, right?
Dennis finished cleaning up and went outside to toss the bagged corpse into the garbage bin. The lid had just slammed shut when he heard the helium voice behind him.
“Hewwo? Nice mistah?”
He turned around to see a fully-grown fluffy standing on the sidewalk. It was dirty, probably a feral. Maybe a runaway? It was dark gray with a dark red mane and tail, although some of that darkness was probably due to dirt. Wings, too. A pegasus.
“Yeah? The fuck you want?”
The fluffy flinched a little. “Dat am a bad wowdsie.”
“Yeah, it sure is. It’s a bad fucking word. What are you gonna do? You gonna fucking cry about it?”
“Nu, mistah. Dat nu make fwuffy feew saddies. Buh maybe mistah nu am su nice wike fwuffy was finkin. Ou haf a gud bwite-time, mistah.” It turned and started to walk away from him.
“Wait, hang on.”
“Yus, mistah?” The fluffy stopped and looked up at him.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just, uh…I just went through some stuff and I’m kind of on edge.”
“Fwuffy am sowwy, mistah. Ou wan tawk bout it? Teww fwuffy wha am wong, why mistah haf saddies?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me to be your daddy, or demand sketties or something?”
“Fwuffy am hungwy, buh nu nee sketties. Fwuffy num gwassies fo so wong, since owd daddeh take fowevah-sweepies an mummah take fwuffy tu pawk and den nevah come back. Fwuffy can num gwassies.”
Dennis was surprised. From everything he’d read and been told this was exactly what fluffies were supposed to be like. Not all of them were, but most of them were supposed to be like this. And someone had just abandoned it. Left it in a park to die because it had become an inconvenience, all while Dennis had been trying to navigate a damn nightmare. The politeness caught him off guard, but more than that he found he really appreciated it. It was a welcome respite from the last few weeks.
“What’s your name, fluffy?”
“Fwuffy namesie am Gway.”
“Well, someone isn’t winning any points for creativity. You a boy or a girl?”
“Fwuffy am stawwion.”
“Perfect, I won’t have to hear anything about baby fever. You’re really dirty, too. Would you let me give you a bath?”
“Owd daddeh du dat aww da time, baffs am su nicies. Fwuffy would wike a baff. Su tiwed of diwt. Nu feew pwetty.”
“Then hey, yeah, come on in and let’s talk. I’ve got kibble, it’s way better than grass.” He headed for the door and motioned for the fluffy to follow, which it did.
“Fank ou, nice mistah. Fwuffy wouwd wike dat vewy much.”
“Hey, you can use your name. I’m Dennis, by the way.”
“Fank ou, nice mistah Dennis. Gway weawwy appweshiate nummies. Now teww Gway bout dem saddies.”
“Well, it started with a girl…”
