The foals were weaned a week later. It was a sudden thing; one day they were drinking Rosemary’s milk and everything was fine, and the next morning Rosemary started shouting for her daddy as her foals tried to drink from her teats.
“Daddeh!” she shouted over and over again until John finally came rushing into the safe room.
“What? What’s going on?” He looked around and didn’t see anything obviously wrong. Except for Rosemary trying to push Sparky and Dahlia away, while both foals were insisting that they needed milkies and they needed them RIGHT NOW. Rosie sat off to the side and looked confused.
“Babbehs haf widdwe teefies, dem huwtin Wosemawy miwkie-pwaces, daddeh!” she whines. “Pwease teww babbehs nu dwink miwkies aww dey be huwtin mummah!”
John reached down and lifted Sparky and Dahlia by their scruffs, causing them to whine about “bad upsies.” He held them up high so he could look straight at their faces. “Your mommy told you that you were hurting her milkie places. If you know it hurts her, why won’t you stop?”
“Dawia su hungee,” the filly cried. “Haf wowstest tummeh huwties. Suuuuu sowwy, buh babbehs nee miwkies fow nummies ow take fowevah-sweepies!”
“Spawky haf tummeh huwties tu,” cried the colt. “Nee miwkies suuuuu bad, daddeh. Onwy mummah haf miwkies!”
“Well, that’s not true. You know I can feed both of you milkies if I need to. Remember? Just a few days ago?”
They both perked up. “Daddeh am haf miwkies fo babbehs!” Dahlia cheered.
“I’ve got something even better than that. If you’ve got teeth…well, they’re soft. You’ll need to have soft food for a while. You can start eating kibble! I’ll just have to add some milk, is all.”
“Kibbow?” Dahlia asked. “Wha am kibbow?”
“Kibbow am gud nummies?” asked Sparky, cocking his head.
“Wosie wan kibbow!” the little filly shouted from the floor, feeling left out and wanting to be a part of whatever the hell was happening.
John put the foals back down. “It’s some of the best nummies you’ll ever have!” he exclaimed, knowing that wasn’t really true. But he’d sprung for the sketti-flavored kibble, and he had a bag that was specifically for growing foals. “I’ll be right back with some kibble for all of you. Just leave your mother alone until I get back, okay? Stay away from her milkie places.”
“Otay, daddeh!” the foals said, more or less in unison.
He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl and a glass measuring cup. He poured a little milk into the cup and stuck it in the microwave for a few seconds, just long enough that the milk was warm. He poured some kibble in the bowl, added the milk, and let it sit until the kibble was soft enough for brand-new foal fluffy teeth. He stirred in a little more milk, turning the mixture into a milky, sketti-smelling mush. No way in hell would he ever eat it, but he was pretty sure the foals would go nuts over it. He spooned a little of the mixture into three small bowls, then carried them back to the safe room.
All three foals were sitting on their haunches at the baby gate. They were all “dancing,” waving their hooves around wildly or in circles, singing an impromptu song:
“Daddeh haf bestest nummies,
Babbehs get bestest kibbow,
Babbehs gwow up big an stwong,
Fwuffies nu nee miwkies nu mowe!”
John peered over at the corner of the room. “Rosemary, were your babies good while I was gone?”
“Yus, daddeh! Dem babbehs nu twy tu num mummah’s miwkie pwaces!” Rosemary stood up and trotted over, giggling at her foals. “Dem babbehs am dancie babbehs! Daddeh wuv seein babbehs bein dancie babbehs?”
“Babbehs dancie fo daddeh!” Sparky said, waving his hooves in the air.
“Babbehs am dancie fo nummies, daddeh!” Rosie said, waving her hooves back and forth.
“Babbehs am dancie babbehs, daddeh!” Dahlia said, cooing and rocking back and forth.
Jesus, I’ve got to stop letting them watch so much FluffTV in here while I’m at work.
“I see that, that’s great,” John said. “You’re very good dancers and singers.” They sounded awful, but he wasn’t going to tell them that; he was just glad that they were so happy to try kibble. He stepped over the gate and walked over to Rosemary’s food dish, setting the three bowls down beside it. “I bet you’ve worked up even more of an appetite. Here, try this and let me know what you think. I think you’re going to like it.”
They all rushed over and dug in without hesitation. A few seconds later their eyes all lit up, and through mouthfuls of food they all exclaimed that their “bestest daddeh” had given them “bestest nummies,” and they thanked him multiple times before grabbing another mouthful of the mushy kibble. Rosemary watched them and smiled.
“Fankoo, daddeh,” she said. “Babbehs am gwowin’ up nao. Gon be big fwuffies soon.” Her smile disappeared as she remembered what this meant - she’d be losing two of them as soon as they were fully grown. “Daddeh, how time tiww Wosemawy haf tu choo…”
“We’ll talk about that later, Rosemary,” he said. It wasn’t a talk that John wanted to have right now, especially not in front of the foals. He didn’t want them all being sad for any longer than they really needed to be.
“Otay, daddeh.” She sulked back over to her nest, then sprawled out and set her head between her outstretched front legs. She sighed and stared sadly at her foals.
Her heart had hurties, but she wasn’t going to complain to daddy right now. She knew that daddy saw the saddies in her eyes. She was pretty sure that daddy had saddies, too. She could hear it in his voice, just a little. Rosemary knew that daddy didn’t want to give her heart hurties, that when she had saddies it gave him saddies, too. So she kept her mouth shut and didn’t say anything. Daddy would talk about it when he wanted to, and she didn’t want to force it.
John left the room, promising he’d be back later. Rosemary watched silently as her growing foals ate, and tried to think about which baby she’d pick.
===
A few days later the foals’ teeth were strong enough to eat regular, soft foal kibble. They were also able to eat special treats that John had bought for them - bits of orange segments, some bits of broccoli, and chopped-up strawberries. John would always give Rosemary the same treats, just not cut into tiny pieces. The treats were always a big hit, and he’d read that some fruits and vegetables didn’t just make fluffies happy - they were a good addition their diet, could help them live longer, and tended to make their shit a little less awful, a little more solid.
It seemed to work. They actually had a little more energy, which John didn’t necessarily see as a good thing. But their shit was definitely a little more solid, which would mean fewer baths would be necessary to keep their ass fluff clean. He’d been using wipes on Rosemary, and she’d been giving the foals “lickie cleanies” even though she always whined about how it didn’t taste pretty, so it hadn’t been an issue. But once there were two adult fluffies in the house, once he was letting them sit on furniture and walk around on the carpet outside the safe room, he’d want to make sure their asses were always clean. More solid shits would be a huge help with that.
After a few days of treats, John figured it was time to introduce the foals to spaghetti. Not just the sauce, like they’d had weeks ago. Actual spaghetti.
“Hey, everyone,” John said as he walked into the safe room. “You’ve all been such good fluffies lately, and I’d like to give you a treat.”
“Tweat?” Dahlia asked. “Wike dem fwuity tweats daddeh am haf been gifin?”
“Kind of. But those are treats you can have every day. This is a treat that you can only have sometimes, not very often. And only if you’re all very good fluffies.”
Rosemary gasped. “Wosemawy knu wha daddeh tweat am!”
“What do you think it is, girl?”
“Am…sketties?” Rosemary asked breathlessly.
“That’s right, girl. It’s sketties! Not canned sketties. Real sketties that daddy’s making himself.”
“Daddeh sketties am bestest sketties!” Rosemary exclaimed, and her foals all started running around the room excitedly shouting about sketties.
“Now, I need you to calm down and listen,” he said. The foals were too excited to process what he was saying, so he tried a second time in a louder, more stern voice. “Okay, fluffies. Either you calm down and listen to me…or you don’t get sketties!”
That did the trick. All of them stopped in their tracks and shuffled over to sit at John’s feet. Rosemary got out of her nest and came over to join them. None of them said anything; they were too worried that they wouldn’t get sketties if they talked.
“Okay. You’ll get sketties tonight. Sometimes you’ll get them when you’ve been really good. But you can’t ever ask me for sketties, or demand them. If you demand sketties from me then you won’t get them again for a very long time. Maybe never again. Do you understand?”
The foals nodded. “Yus, daddeh,” Sparky said. Fwuffies nevah teww daddeh dat haf tu gif fwuffies sketties! Fwuffies get sketties when daddeh wan gif sketties."
“That’s right. Do you all agree?”
All of the foals said they agreed. Rosemary already knew the rule, and she’d never once demanded spaghetti. The thought of never getting it again horrified her.
“Okay, good. I’ve got a lot of work to do because they’re very special sketties, so you all stay in here and play and watch FluffTV. I’ll be back to get you when it’s time for sketties. If you need anything, just yell for me.”
The foals were all singing some rambling sketties song as he walked back down the hallway; they’d been doing a lot more singing lately, and he was honestly glad that he wasn’t going to be stuck in there to hear it. He loved that they were so enthusiastic and happy, but the singing really grated on his nerves. Rebekah seemed to think they’d mostly grow out of it, except if they became mothers. John hoped Rosemary would pick Sparky to keep, and the singing was starting to be a big part of that. Out of the three foals, Sparky sang far less than the rest of them.
John settled into the kitchen and set to making the spaghetti sauce. No bottled sauce, no frozen meatballs. They’d be getting a meat sauce made from scratch, simmered all afternoon. He and Rebekah were going to be eating it, too, and he prided himself on his ability to cook. He listened to music as he diced onions, browned the ground beef and italian sausage, and worked on putting the sauce together. He thought about how, in just a couple of weeks, it was going to be time to find new homes for two of the foals. He’d have to sit down with Rosemary soon and have her decide which foal to pick. It was obvious that she wasn’t looking forward to making the decision. In truth, John wasn’t looking forward to having the conversation with her. It was going to be hard on her. It was going to be hard on the foals, since they didn’t know what was going on. And it was going to be hard on him, too. He loved all of them. But a deal was a deal, and there’s no way he could take care of four fluffies. Maybe their new owners could bring them over to visit relatively often.
Rebekah got there just in time to help with the garlic bread as John grabbed a bagged salad mix. Some for the humans, some for the fluffies.
“So they finally get to try your infamous spaghetti,” she said. “What do you think’s going to happen when their new owners try to give them the canned shit?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t really thought of that.”
“They’re pretty well-behaved, but I’d bet you money that they’ll whine and start some shit the first couple of times.”
“Well, it’s too late to go back now. Rosemary’s had it before, so if I give them anything else she’ll say something.”
“Do you think they’ll go crazy over it?” she asked.
They did. John brought them into the kitchen, where he’d set out four fluffy-sized bowls full of spaghetti and four small fluffy-sized plates full of salad greens. They dug in immediately; Rosemary ate relatively slowly and carefully, as she was used to how messy spaghetti could be. The foals, however, had no idea what was going on and they practically dove into their bowls.
“Dese sketties am bestest nummies EVAH!” shouted Sparky between bites.
“Daddeh sketti am bestest sketti! Fankoo, daddeh!” exclaimed Rosie after reminding herself to take a breath between bites.
“Dem sketties, daddeh!” cooed Dahlia. “Dem sketties, dem sketties…Dawia nu haf wowds! FANKOO, BESTEST DADDEH!” Then her face was slammed right back into the sauce-covered pile of pasta.
“You really need to slow down,” John insisted. “Eat a little slower, you’re making a mess, you…Jesus Christ, you look ridiculous.” Rebekah laughed as the foals looked up at John; their faces were slathered in spaghetti sauce. It was dripping off of their fluff, landing in the bowl, landing on their hooves, landing on the floor. They all looked confused and Iincredibly happy, grins plastered on all of their little fluffy faces.
“Wha wong, daddeh?” Dahlia asked.
“You’re all making a huge mess, and your faces are…you’re covered in sauce.”
“Dun wowwy, daddeh,” Sparky said. “Fwuffies wiww cwean up aftuh nummin’ am ovah!”
“I can’t wait to see this,” Rebekah said, giggling as the foals plunged their faces right back into the ever-dwindling pasta.
Once the foals were done eating, Rosemary trotted over to them and started licking their faces clean. The foals took her cue and started doing the same to each other, babbling about “lickie-cleanies” and how good they were for fluffies. The sauce that was on the floor didn’t stay there for long; between licking each others’ faces, the foals would pause and lick sauce off the floor, then go back to licking their siblings’ fluff. Lickie-cleanies turned into an extended session of giggling from the tickling of tongues on snouts and ears, and the foals wound up chasing each other in circles around the kitchen, tackling each other and wrestling. Rosemary even joined in, something she hadn’t done in a couple of weeks; she’d been so low-key and borderline depressed. John knew why, of course.
“It goes without saying,” Rebekah whispered, “that this is one of the cutest fucking things that’s ever happened in this house, right?”
“Yeah,” John whispered back. He reached over and grabbed the container of fluffy-friendly cleaning wipes that he’d brought to dinner, sensing beforehand that something like this was going to happen. “You get the dishes, I’ll get those stains out of their fluff before they set?”
“Deal. And you need to have that talk with Rosemary soon. The sooner the better.”
“I know, I know.” He sighed, grabbing a squealing Rosie and pulling her up into his lap for a good cleaning. He was dreading the talk more than he wanted to admit.
===
Dahlia felt terrible. It wasn’t the sketties; those had come and gone in a bright-time and she’d felt fine. But after a couple of bright-times she’d started to feel really bad. Her tummy had hurties that rumbled through her and made her feel not-pretty in a lot of ways. Her mouthie felt weird; it was making weird wa-was like it did when she saw really nummy treats. Her thinkie-place felt really warm and weird. Her see-places felt a little hurty, too, and it was hard to keep them open. She felt sleepy all the time and didn’t want to leave the nest. Then, this morning, the rumblings started in her poopie place. Now it was later in the bright-time, almost time for daddy to be home. Things were not getting better.
“Dawia nu feew pwetty,” she whimpered.
“Sistah am otay?” asked a concerned Sparky.
“Nuuuuu, bwuddah,” she whined. “Dawia am feew suuuu sickies.”
“Mummah!” shouted Sparky. “Sistah am sickies! Hewp! Gif huggies!”
Rosemary came running over and pulled Dahlia close, wrapping her up in a big hug. Sparky and Rosie joined in, creating a fluffpile.
“Wosie gif sistah biggest huggies an’ make aww bettah,” Rosie insisted.
“Huggies make aww fings bettah!” said Rosemary. And as a mother, she KNEW that hugs would fix everything!
Dahlia didn’t feel better, though. In fact, she was steadily feeling worse. The pressure of the hugs was making her tummy-rumblies even worse. The weird wa-was were dripping from her mouthie, and her poopie place…oh fluff, her poopie place clenched and unclenched as she felt a pressure building. She tried to will her poopie place to stay shut. Please, poopie place, she thought. Please don’t let those poopies out. Please keep those poopies in, Dahlia can’t make bad…
“Ahhhh nuuuuuu,” she cried. “Wet Dawia go! Poopies am comin!”
It was too late. It wasn’t just poopies that were coming, though. As poopies spilled out of her poopie place, her tummy lurched and sickie wa-was went everywhere. All over her nest, all over the floor in front of her…and all over her family.
“Nuuuuuu!” shouted Rosemary, struggling to get out of the nest and escape the poopies. “Babbeh am su sickies! Babbeh, get tu wittah-box! Make dem poopies an sickie wa-was dewe!”
But Dahlia couldn’t do it. She didn’t have the strength to move herself. The poopies kept coming, more and more poopies than she’d ever thought possible. How did her poopie place even HAVE so many poopies? How did her tummy have so much sickie wa-wa in it? How was all of this possible? Now she’d pooped and been sickie all over her family! All over her safe room and her nest! She started crying, sobbing between bursts of sickies. Sob, be sickie. Sob, be sickie. The poopies kept leaking out of her, too. Her poopie place refused to listen to her, which made her cry even harder!
Rosemary managed to get free of the nest. Her fluff was covered in poopies and sickies, but she didn’t worry about that for now. She grabbed Dahlia by the scruff and tried to drag her over to the litterbox. But Dahlia was getting close to being fully grown now. She was still a babbeh to her mummah, but she was too big to be dragged quickly by one fluffy. Rosemary needed help.
“Babbehs, hewp mummah! Hewp get sista tu wittah-bawks!”
Rosie and Sparky immediately ran over to help, trailing poopies and sickies that dripped off of their hooves. All of them were COVERED in poopies and sickies. They dragged their sister toward the litterbox, leaving a trail of poopies and sickies behind them. Eventually they got Dahlia to the litterbox and, because it was low enough to the ground, they managed to work as a team to push and pull her into the litter. Dahlia sprawled out in the sandy litter, the last traces of poopies finally leaking out of her, and she cried her little heart out.
Dahlia could see over the edge of the litterbox. She could see all the poopies and sickes that had been left behind. Her nest! The floor! It was everywhere, and it was all over her family, too! Daddy was going to be SO MAD at her! At all of them! He was going to be super mad and it was ALL HER FAULT! What was she going to…
She heard the big door slam. The door that slammed when daddy was home! Oh, no!
“Daddy’s home!” daddy called out. All the fluffies in the room froze, terrified.
“Daddeh!” yelled Sparky. “Uh, evewyfing’s pewfectwy aww wight now. Fwuffies am fine. Fwuffies am aww fine hewe, nao, fankoo. How am daddeh? Nu nee come tu woom, jus…jus tawkies fwom out dewe!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” daddy asked. Then he was there, and a lot of bad words came out of his mouth really fast.
===
“It’s called the fluffy flu,” Rebekah said. “Gonna need you to send me some pictures before you start cleaning the place up, though. God, I’d fucking kill to have seen the look on your face.”
“Yeah, yeah. I said ‘fuck’ a whole lot until I realized that Dahlia is sick. So it’s curable, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll bring some meds when I come over after work. Make her a temporary nest out on the deck, keep her isolated for a couple of days so the rest of them don’t get sick.”
“Thank you. She already loves you. This is just going to make her love you even more.”
“Good, because if Rosemary doesn’t keep her, I’m going to take her.”
“Seriously?”
“Hell yeah. She’s adorable, sweet, quiet, and super well-behaved. The perfect fluffy for me. Plus we’ve already got a little bond going.”
“I…I think she’d love that.”
“I know. Hey, have that talk with Rosemary soon. As soon as Dahlia gets better. I’ve gotta go. See you tonight. Love you.”
“Love you too.” John trudged back into the safe room. Everything was just as he’d left it; lots of shit, lots of puke. Sobbing foal in the litterbox, covered in shit and piss and puke, now lightly coated in litter, like a Shake n’ Bake fluffy pony. Sobbing foals, sobbing mother. Everyone miserable, everything a huge mess.
“Jesus Christ, where do I start?” he asked. He snapped a few pictures, then pocketed his phone. He put on a pair of disposable gloves - he kept a pack on hand for just this sort of emergency - and carefully made his way over to Dahlia. “Okay, we’ll start with you. You get to find out just how much fun baths can be!”
“Nuuuu,” she whimpered. “Wawa am bad fo fwuffies, daddeh.”
“You’ll like this. It’s warm and you’ll smell pretty when we’re done.”
Dahlia actually didn’t mind it. She didn’t have the strength to fight, so she just cried as she was lowered into the water. Once the mess was halfway massaged out of her fluff, though, she cooed and thanked John for making her smell pretty again. She liked the bubbles and, despite her sickness, found herself halfheartedly trying to bat at some of them as they floated by.
“Bubbews, daddeh. Dawia wuv bubbews. Fankoo.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. Once I get you cleaned up you’re going to be spending some time out on the deck, okay? The weather’s nice and it’s all screened in, so you’ll be safe.”
“Dawia nu sweep wif famiwy?”
“No, you’re sick. We need to get you better so you don’t make them sick, too. I’m going to set you up in your mother’s special bed, the one with the litterbox attached to it. That way if you can’t make, uh, good poopies again, they won’t get all over you.”
“Dawia wiww miss famiwy, but unnewstan. How time tiww nu sickies?”
“A couple of days. Bright-times. Whatever you want to call them. Rebekah’s bringing some medicine tonight, so…you’ll feel better in no time, okay?”
“Otay, daddeh.” She relaxed a little more when Rebekah’s name was mentioned. “Dawia wuv Webekuh.”
“She loves you too. Okay, let’s get you all dried off, and I’ll set you up on the deck.”
It didn’t take very long. John left her on the deck, snuggled into some blankets and sleeping. Rosie and Sparky, as it turned out, loved their baths too; they both splashed in the water and wanted to play. John had to be stern with them and threaten them with the sorry stick if they didn’t hold still. Both of them relented, but asked if they could play in the water again later, if they were good. John had read about rare fluffies who actually enjoyed water, but he hadn’t expected to actually have some on his hands. He promised them that they could play in the water again if they were very good fluffies, and that made them all happy.
John left Rosemary, Sparky and Rosie on the couch, bundled up in towels and watching FluffTV. They promised to call to him if they needed to visit the litterbox. Once they were settled, he set to cleaning the shit and puke out of the safe room.
The nest was disassembled and tossed into the washing machine. None of the shit had been solid, so it’d all come out in the wash. Once that was gone, it was actually pretty easy; some paper towels, some fluffy-safe cleaning solution, and the mess wiped right off of the floor.
Christ, that flooring was worth every fucking penny. I can’t imagine what a goddamned nightmare this would be if it was carpet.
As he finished and was putting the last couple of tiles back down on the floor, Rebekah showed up with the medicine. The fluffies were all happy to see her; she promised them that she’d come give them hugs and love later, but first she had to tend to the very sick fluffy on the deck. They understood and went back to watching FluffTV. Once John was done, he joined Rebekah on the deck. He didn’t interrupt, but stood and listened in on her conversation.
“Fankoo, Webekuh,” Dahlia muttered sleepily.
“You’re welcome, girl. You’ll feel better in a couple of days, okay? I’ll stay over and I’ll check on you before and after work.”
“Fankoo. Webekuh am nice wady. Wuv ou.”
“I love you too. Try to get some rest, okay?”
“Otay!” Dahlia curled up in the nest as best she could with her ass almost hanging off of the edge, over the litterbox. Rebekah turned to John and smiled.
“She’s gonna be fine,” she said.
“I know she will. You know what the hell you’re doing.”
“I’ve learned a lot from Meredith. She’s taught me really well.”
“You ever think about becoming a fluffy vet?”
“I…I dunno. We’ve talked about what we’d do if the shelter ever shut down, or if some giant asshole bought it. Fluffy vets don’t really have to go through normal vet school, you know. A few classes, some practicals, I could get a license. I…maybe?”
“You’d be a good one. You know I’ll cheer you on if you decide to do it, right?”
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I love you. And once we get the fluffies tucked in tonight, we need to talk about some things.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I know. Serious adult time.”
===
Once Dahlia was well again, John and Rebekah herded all of the fluffies into the nest in the safe room. Getting them to calm down took a few minutes, but John told them that they needed to listen, that he had to have a serious talk with them.
“When your mother said she wanted babies, I let her do it under one condition - that she could only keep one of you. She agreed to it. That means that two of you have to go to other families.”
The foals started screaming. Rosemary started crying.
“DADDEH NU! DADDEH NU WUV DAWIA? DAWIA AM BAD FWUFFY?”
“SPAWKY SU SOWWY, DADDEH!” Sparky sobbed. “NU KNU WHA DU WONG, BUH SPAWKY SOWWY!”
“Daddeh, why?” Rosie cried. “Daddeh pwease, pwease nu, daddeh.”
Rosemary just buried her face in her front legs and sobbed uncontrollably.
“Well, this is going exactly how I thought it would,” John sighed.
“You got this, baby,” Rebekah said. “I’ve got faith in you.”
“Okay, look, look. I told your mother that she’d have to choose which one of you to keep. But I’m not going to make her choose, because it’s going to make her too sad. So I’m going to choose.”
The foals dissolved into cries of “pick fwuffy, daddeh,” scrambling over each other and muttering about their awful heart hurties.
“First things first,” he said. “Dahlia, Rebekah has decided to adopt you. I can’t imagine a better person for you to be going to. Now…”
“Dawia wuv Webekuh, buh wan stay wif famiwy, daddeh. Pwease. Nee famiwy.”
“Please, all of you, let me finish. Okay?”
“Buh daddeh,” Sparky sobbed. “Nu wan weave daddeh and mummah an an an…”
“Please,” John said, his tone a little more firm. “Let. Me. Finish.” The foals quieted down a little, and he continued. “Now, we got to thinking. Rebekah spends a lot of time over here. Dahlia could visit a lot. That leaves two foals to choose from, and one to adopt out. Actually, Rebekah’s been spending a lot of time over here. We’ve had some serious talks about her moving in. And the other night, well, we decided that we should go ahead and make that happen.”
“Webekuh wiv wif daddeh?” Dahlia asked. “Dat mean…”
“That means you’ll be staying here, too, Dahlia. Yeah. Rebekah will be the main one taking care of you. Now with that, we decided that Rosemary could still keep one of you. Which leaves one of you to be adopted.”
“Pwease nu make Spawky gu way, daddeh,” Sparky cried.
“Daddeh, Wosie wuv daddeh and famiwy an…”
“I know, I know. Look. I realized that in the end, the net result would just be one more fluffy than I’d agreed to keep on my own. What’s one more fluffy, right? What’s one more fluffy when you can keep a whole family together? So with some new rules in place, I’ve decided that all of you can stay.”
Rosemary shot up from the nest and gasped. “DADDEH WET WOSEMAWY KEEP AWW DEM BABBEHS?”
“Yes, Rosemary,” John said. “But there will be rules, and…”
His words got lost in the cacophony of happy fluffies. They were running around his and Rebekah’s legs, shouting about how it was the best day ever and how much they loved their bestest daddy ever. Finally he got them calmed down and told them the rules.
“One, no more babies. Rosie, Dahlia, if you stay you won’t be allowed to have babies. Both of you and Rosemary, I’ll be taking you to the vet and they’ll make sure you can’t have babies ever.” The fillies agreed to that eagerly. “Two, Sparky, NEVER make special huggies with your sisters.”
“Gwoss, daddeh,” Sparky said. “Nu fwuffy EVAH make speshuw huggies wif dey sistahs. Su, su gwoss.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ve got a special friend to introduce you to later, a very special toy that I got for you at FluffMart, and buying that toy was one of the weirdest and most uncomfortable moments of my entire adult life, so holy shit I hope you like it.”
“Fankoo, daddeh.”
“Those are the big rules. No babies ever, no more fluffies ever, just the four of you. All the normal house rules apply. What do you say?”
They all said yes. A very emphatic yes.
So John and Rebekah sat on the safe room floor and, as the happy, chattering fluffies crawled all over them and hugged and nuzzled them, as they leaned against each other and embraced amid the talk about how they were the best humans ever, they soaked it all in and wondered where all of this would take them. How it would all end up.
And as time passed, as their lives changed, through the good and the bad, they never regretted their decision to keep the family together.
