Jitters awoke early the morning after the storm. He’d somehow managed to fall asleep on the floor, leaning against the wall of the foal pen. Upon being roused by the sounds of hungry peeping, he slipped and fell to the hard wood, startling himself awake.
“WHat-?! Wh-… Oh…”
Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his bleary eyes as he tried to gather his bearings. The foal was peeping incessantly, more out of fear than hunger thanks to all the noise he’d made. Yawning, he reaches into the pen to pet it’s soft baby fluff and calm it down.
“I’s good. Mmgood… It’s-” He yawns. “It’s okay, 'Mmup, I’m up…”
He notices the overhead light in the room is on. Power must’ve returned sometime during the night. Getting up, he stretches with a groan. His shoulders and neck were sore as hell from his poor sleeping posture. He manages to rise to his feet, trying to work out the knotted muscles by rolling his shoulder and squeezing the ache away.
The foal continued to peep, nosing around in the blankets as if searching for food.
“Alright, little guy, let’s get breakfast…”
The next week had essentially become a bit of routine. Jitters would feed the foal when his alarms would go off, sing to it on occasion(particularly when he was already singing to himself while cooking or doing chores), and diligently following the guidance of the fluffy baby books Loretta had given him. Aside from the fact that it was 'round the clock care, he managed to balance it with his classwork and job fairly smoothly. Thank fuck for remote work.
That didn’t mean there weren’t some struggles, of course. There was one time where the foal was being particularly clingy and needy for attention during an online video call class session, and Jitters was reprimanded for the foal being a distraction with all it’s peeping. Didn’t help that the professor seemed to have it out for him and relished in making him squirm under his act of authority along with the peer pressure of the other students complaining about fluffies and sharing their judgement of him in call.
A couple of other times the foal’s needy fussiness made it very hard to focus on studying. That or Jitter’s tutoring kept being interrupted by his clients becoming distracted and trying to focus their attention on asking him questions about the foal, offering him money for it, or sharing unprompted stories of their own experiences with fluffies. Most of which were uncomfortably graphic and made him question his own safety in the presence of the more violent individuals.
Most days were pretty good though. He only nearly dropped the foal twice, safely caught it both times. He completely lost track of it once when it managed to crawl under a dresser while he was cleaning it’s pen. That was a good hour and a half of adrenaline fueled panic that he never wanted to experience again.
Outside of that, the foal really only slept, ate, and pooped the majority of the time. Leaving him to have plenty of time and space to work, study, and read up on whatever struck his interest.
As of late, he was reading on fluffy foal milestones to see if he was doing alright in raising the little alicorn. Maybe it was the ‘new owner/new dad’ mindset, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious and uncertain that he wasn’t majorly fucking up somehow. It had certainly gained weight much faster than he anticipated over the past week. It was still small, of course, but he was pleased to find that the bottles of Lady Bell’s milk were really showing signs of improving it’s health. It even had little locks of colourful hair making up it’s mane and tail now!
According to the guides, it was about now that he needed to start litter training it. Little guy couldn’t use a pee pad and wet wipes forever. So Jitters brought out a little litter tray designed for foals. The litter that Loretta had packed for him was less of a ‘litter’ and more of a fine sand, fragranced to help mask the smell of poo and make it more easily recognizable for the blind foal to go to whenever he needed to do his business. The fine quality of the sand also helped keep the foal from potentially developing an intestinal blockage should it try to eat it.
“Alrighty, you lil’ poo-machine, this is where you’re gonna go potty now.” He explains, giving a wiry grin as he tickles the foal’s belly and hears it give out the squeakiest whinny of a laugh. He sets the foal down in the little tray of sand, watching as it sniffed around squeaked in discomfort at the new, strange feeling under it. Of course, it didn’t immediately use the litter tray, but that didn’t discourage him from trying to implant the rule that “Good poopies go in the litter box.” He felt incredibly silly saying it out loud…
You are a foal. Life with Daddeh has been pretty good so far! Sometimes, he made scary noises, or made angry words at meanie voices, or even made angry words at you, but in the end, he always made sure to take care of you. Sometimes, he would sing to you or play with you, and give you the biggest heart happies!
Today, he got you something new. You thought it was a new toy for a new game! He called it the ‘litter box’, and he told you it’s where you were gonna make poopies. You never thought you could play a game with your poopies! You didn’t really like the sound of it. Poopies were yuckie, they did not smell pretty, and were for getting cleanies. You didn’t wanna play with them!
You felt your Daddeh put you in something. It felt different than anything else you had ever felt. It was grainy, and moved when you moved. It smelled kinda… Pretty? Not pretty? You weren’t sure what it smelled like, and you weren’t sure if you liked it. You tried to get stable on your front hooves, but the grainy stuff made it hard! You slipped, your face landing straight into the grainy stuff. It got in your nose and mouth, and tasted not pretty! It clung to your soft fluff and made your nose itchy!
You peep to let your displeasure known. You did NOT like toy or this game! You struggle to move around, sniffling as you try to get the grainy stuff out of your nose. Swallowing the little bit that was in your mouth made your throat feel scratchy. The scratchy feeling only made you thirsty!
You almost make it out of the grainy stuff, only to feel your daddeh pick you back up and place you further in. No! You don’t wanna play the litter box game! You don’t wanna play with your poopies! You want out! You try to peep and squeak your distaste, but Daddeh doesn’t listen.
It’s been several forevers, you didn’t know how many, but it clearly felt like too many! Daddeh wouldn’t let you out of the meanie litter box until you made poopies and peepees, and only then would he say nice things! After that, every time you finished eating milkie nummies, he would put you back in the litter box and wait your you to make more peepees or poopies. Most the time, you made poopies or peepees outside the litter box, which Daddeh had to clean. He always sounded not happy when you did and called them ‘Bad Poopies’, and every time you had to potty he would keep repeating the same thing over and over. “Good poopies go in the litter box.”
You didn’t understand. What were good poopies? They clearly went in the litter box, but you didn’t understand which poopies were good or bad! Poopies were just poopies! They all smelled yuckie, and felt nasty when it got stuck in your fluff! If anything, you were beginning to wonder if ALL poopies were bad poopies!
This time when Daddeh put you in the litter box, it was because you had made poopies on your precious Mummah blankie and he had taken it away! You didn’t mean to make poopies on your Mummah blankie! Sure, part of it didn’t smell as pretty because of the poopies, but most of it still smelled like Mummah! He didn’t have to take it away! You were plopped onto the grainy stuff once more and couldn’t stop yourself from sobbing. You didn’t mean to be bad! You didn’t!
Soon your sorrow and grief over losing the one thing that reminded you of your Mummah was quickly overwhelmed with something… Hotter. Something seething! You were angry! These stupid poopies were bad and that made you bad! Your Daddeh was being the worstest meanie over these dumb, bad poopies! You… You hated it! You hated this litter box! There was nothing good about it! Daddeh said good poopies go in the litter box, but none of your poopies were good and only you were the one in the litter box! Did he think you were poopies?!
Well, you weren’t going to let that slide! You were gonna show Daddeh that you have had enough! You squeaked and puffed your little cheeks, chirping as angrily and as loudly as you could, thrashing your limbs around and slapping your hooves in the grainy stuff and tossing it about! You didn’t want to make bad poopies to play with! You didn’t want to be poopies! You were a babbeh, not a poopie!
Jitters noticed that the alicorn started throwing a huge fuss when he took the blanket away to clean it. Big tears and distressed cries followed with tapping it’s little hooves around as hard as it’s tiny body could. He wasn’t entirely sure why the foal was throwing a fuss, but it was clear that the foal either didn’t listen or didn’t understand him when he tried to assure it he would give it back once it was clean again.
He had just finished turning on the washer when he heard the alicorn’s screeches. Was it hurt?! Did something happen?! Rushing back to the foal pen, he paused as he stared down at the infant. It was still in the litter tray where he left it, but now it was thrashing about, kicking sand everywhere it could, and screaming it’s little head off in as much volume as it’s tiny little lungs could.
It would’ve been worrying had it not been so damn funny. This foal was having a full blown temper tantrum. It reminded him of those adorable videos of fussy kittens not getting their way in the silliest manners.
Well, the best way to deal with this was to let the little bugger blow off his steam. Holding in his laughter, Jitters pulled out his phone and recorded the foal’s tantrum for a short minute before sending it to Loretta. She responds quicker than he expected.
That foal is having a total meltdown lol
What did you do?
We've been having some trouble
with litter training
It pooped on it's favorite blanket
So I took it away to wash it
Now it's having a tantrum
Oh
Yeah that makes sense
The blanket probably smells like Trixie
so he feels more security with it
Can't leave it covered in shit tho
Just let him tire out, otherwise he'll
think throwing a fit will get him
attention and that'll enforce smarty
symptoms
Yeah, that's what I was planning
Good. Good luck litter training btw!
Thanks
Without saying a word, or giving any form of attention to the screeching woes of the fussy alicorn, Jitters exited the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He must’ve been really upset, because the alicorn’s enraged squeaking and peeping lasted for about a whole thirty minutes. Just enough time for the blanket and a few other dirty clothes to be transferred from the washer to the dryer.
You are a foal, and you have been screaming and peeping and thrashing about for as long as you physically could. Now, you were too tired to wiggle around or kick. Your throat felt too sore to scream. You were too sad and heart-broken to be angry.
As far as you knew, Daddeh hadn’t come back since taking your Mummah blankie. He didn’t come back when you screamed and threw the biggest fit you could muster. He didn’t even come back to check on you. Did Daddeh not love you anymore? Were you a bad babbeh? Were these ‘good poopies’ and ‘bad poopies’ really that important to him?
You sniffled and wheezed out a hoarse sob. You felt so ashamed and upset. You didn’t understand what you needed to do to make the poopies ‘good’ the way Daddeh wanted them to be. You just wanted to make Daddeh happy! You wanted Daddeh to love you, because you loved him! You didn’t wanna be a bad babbeh anymore…
You hear a creaking sound, and heavy footsteps. Maybe it was Daddeh? Or maybe it was a monster… You weren’t sure, but you couldn’t stop crying, despite the fear of the unknown making you want to.
“Hey, kiddo, you feeling okay?”
You hear Daddeh’s voice. It’s soft and quiet, not angry, but not happy either. Your body shakes as you cry a new wave of hoarse little ‘uuhuuhuuhuus’. You feel him getting closer, looking at you from overhead.
“Well, you didn’t use the litter box… But you didn’t make any more messes either, aside from kicking up the litter that is…”
He sighs, but he doesn’t give you any comforting touches. He stays quiet, and you know he must be watching you. You feel judged, and ashamed. He waits for your crying to settle down.
“I know you’re upset, but you can’t have a blanket covered in poop. It’s nasty. You don’t want a nasty blanket, right?”
No, you didn’t want a nasty blankie, but that was your Mummah blankie. Even with poopies on it, you didn’t want to let it go. It was the only blankie you had that reminded you of her.
“I managed to clean your blanket, but you can’t keep pooping or peeing all over the place if you wanna have it back. You gotta learn how to use the litter box.”
Is… Is that why he took it away? He gave your Mummah blankie cleanies? Of course! Of course that’s why he took it! How could you have not realized it sooner?! You felt so… Silly, yet relieved. Until you registered what else he said. You couldn’t have your Mummah Blankie back if you kept making the ‘bad’ poopies or peepees. You didn’t want that! You wanted to make the ‘good’ poopies and peepees! But HOW?
You feel Daddeh pick you up and brush the grainy stuff- ‘litter’ he called it, off your fluff. You squeezed your arms around his fingers the best you could. You were sorry. You were so, so sorry for being bad. For not understanding. You want to understand. You want to be good. You just… Didn’t know how…
You hear him brushing something. You think he’s cleaning up the litter you scattered around your nestie. He always cleans up your nestie…
“Maybe I need to try something new… Let’s try learning how to make ‘good poopies’ again, shall we?”
Make ‘good’ poopies? He was going to tell you how?! Yes! YES! You want to make the ‘good’ poopies! Please, Daddeh, teach you how so you can be a good babbeh!
He sets you down in your nestie.
“Can you smell the litterbox?”
You sniff around. You can! You can smell it!
“Find the litter box for me. Just crawl to it.”
You do as your told, you follow your nose and you do your best to get your uncoordinated leggies to push and kick your body forward. You crawl towards the smell of the litter until you find it. Your little hooves reaching out to tap at the grainy texture. You hear Daddeh laugh and clap.
“Yes! Good boy!! Very good! Okay, okay! Now, go in the litter box, and poop if you can.”
Daddeh’s praise fills your heart with happiness. You were so excited! He called you good for finding the litter box all on your own! You listen to what he says, and you crawl forward, feeling the litter under you. You wait. Usually, the poopies just come out on their own, but for some reason, they’re not doing that this time. You grunt, and you strain, concentrating hard until you feel a release. You did it! You made the poopies!
“H-Hey! That’s- Well… You almost made it… You gotta get your butt in the litter box before you poop… But that was really close this time! I’m proud of you!”
Your excitement and happiness over your achievement was quickly turned into disappointment. These poopies were not ‘good’ poopies, even if you did what you were told. Daddeh wasn’t angry though! He was proud! You almost made ‘good’ poopies! You think you’re starting to understand this game now. To make ‘good’ poopies you had make them in the litter box, any poopies outside the litter box were ‘bad’ poopies. You didn’t really have to play with the poopies at all! You just had to make them in the litter box! That’s what he meant when he says ‘Good poopies go in the litter box!’ What a silly game!
You hear the nummie sound. It was time for milkies! You could really use some milkies right about now, your tummeh was making the growly noises. Daddeh picks you up, and wipes your poopie place clean.
“Come on, little guy, time to take the poop patrol to the milk station.”
Loretta belongs to @UndercoverPallasCat
. I hope it doesn’t mean Jitters is overfeeding him though.