Lawrence Price moved about his cozy little kitchen much like an automaton. Taking the kettle off the gas burner before it could start it’s shrill whistle, he poured the proper amount of water into a little earthenware mug, dunking a teabag into it. Sitting at the kitchen table (one chair, of course…Mr. Price rarely afforded visitors) he would simply stare down to the sugar packets placed in the middle. Four. Four was the perfect amount of sugar packets. He only used one each time yet replaced it immediately.
The man, bookish and balding, didn’t use a timer to reach that perfect four minute and 30 second steeping time. Instead he watched the wall clock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. It was as he did every day. His mind didn’t wander for a moment, either. Once the full time had passed the teabag was scooped out, sugar neatly knocked in, the paper wrapper folded three times like always before being deposited into the wastebasket.
Before he could even have a chance to take a sip of the scalding beverage there was a knock at the door. Uncommon, though he knew what it was about. A fluffy. Or, perhaps, the fluffy. His new muse for the time being.
This was at a time when fluffies were brand new. Hardly any were on the market currently, and those who had them were expected to pay fabulous amounts of money. Forget about the scarcity of something like hot new Christmas gifts: The biopets may as well be worth their weight in gold currently. Everyone wanted one and the buzz around them was insane.
So why was it then that Lawrence was expecting to find one out on his front stoop? He was a children’s author. Picture books, the kind you would find on any school shelf or in the waiting room at a pediatrician’s office. He had been contracted by Hasbio to receive a fluffy all his own and to, well, create a book about it. A sly bit of advertising that they didn’t need.
Getting up from the kitchen table, Lawrence walked on over to the front door. Pried it open and peeked outside. There was a cardboard box, garish and somewhat offensive to the eyes. ‘Hasbio!’ it said in jangly baby-script, along with the words ‘Your new friend is inside!’. The box moved around. He heard cries from the inside. Bending down and peeling off cellophane tape which kept the thing enclosed, he was knocked off his feet with surprise as something popped out at him.
It was not ‘a’ fluffy. It was ‘his’ fluffy. Though this was the first time they had met, the creature shot up to him and immediately snugged up against his chest with a hug. He was still on the ground in a bit of shock, though he instinctively reached out to return the hug. Lawrence wasn’t much for hugs, but he couldn’t deny the fluffy.
++++++++++++++
Sparkles was a fluffy straight from Hasbio’s breeding facility. Soft pink with a royal purple mane and tail. Fat and squishy like a marshmallow. The mare still held the distinctive smell of whatever litter had been in her pen at the facility: Something like sweet timothy grass.
“Nyu daddeh! Hewwo! Am Spawkews! Teehee! Huggies for nyu bestest daddeh! YAAAAYYYY!” She continued to hug up against him, giggling all the while and especially so when he returned the affection somewhat awkwardly. Just a big warm fluffy pile of love. Shifting so he could shift her off from him, he’d stand up and dust dirt off of his slacks. It bothered him greatly but he would relent on the matter.
“Sparkles. Hello. Nice to meet you.” Adjusting a thick pair of spectacles framing his bleary brown eyes, he would think about how best to handle this.
“You may call me Mr. Price. I’m not exactly comfortable with…” The man tried to get out but the mare excitedly began nudging his legs with her nose.
“Mistah Pwice? Am nyu daddeh! Am wan caww daddeh, daddeh! Pwease? Pwease ‘fo Spawkews?” It felt so strange being called ‘daddy’ by a pet. Though he had read the literature sent over by Hasbio prior to receiving her. In fact, there was already a safe room set up in what had been an otherwise unused guest room too.
“That’s fine. I suppose.” Lawrence watched as the fluffy practically lost her mind with excitement that he had caved to such a simple request. Prancing around, chasing around his legs in circles.
“Would you like to see your room, Sparkles?” He asked, which stopped her abruptly. Looking up to him with eyes as bright as her namesake, the fluffy nodded.
“Woomsie ‘fo Spawkew?” Leading her into the house after scooping the box she’d been delivered in, he’d set the empty parcel onto the kitchen counter and make his way down the short hall to the repurposed safe room. It wasn’t the largest of rooms but it would look like a paradise to any fluffy. The entire place was filled with various objects Hasbio had sent over: A comfortable, plush cushion bed. Toys such as balls, blocks, and simple puzzle games. A kibble station along with a bowl of water. Of course, a littertray too. The mare scurried over to the littertray, immediately using it.
“Am makin’ gud poopies ‘fo daddeh. Nu am do bad poopies in scawy boxie.” She looked right at him as she did this. Lawrence turned away, closed the door enough so that it was only slightly ajar. That was not something he particularly wanted to be privy to.
After she had done her business, Sparkles gently tapped the door so that it swung open to find her new owner at the kitchen table. A large sketchpad out in front of him, beginning to work on what would be the cover for his newest book.
“Wut daddeh am doin’? Makin’ pwetty pitcher? Spawkew wub safe woom. Dank yew.” She plopped down beside the man, looked up in reverent silence as he went about his work. Giving a side glance, he nodded.
“Yes, Sparkles. I make lots of books for little boys and girls. You’re going to be the subject of the newest one.” Right back to work. Sparkles stuck her tongue out for a moment. She was going to be in a book? Even fluffies had books! Not ones they could read of course. Just silly little things usually made out of cloth with funny pictures on them. She’d chewed on plenty when she was a foal.
“Spawkew am be in booksie!? Spawkew wan make booksie ‘bou nyu daddeh! Pwease?” Though they had just met she was completely devoted to him. That much was clear. The instructional materials gushed about how they were full of love and affection. That much was true. Could they even use art supplies? Couldn’t hurt to see. Standing up from the table, he went to his supply closet and rummaged around for a moment. Returned with a box of blocky crayons and a block of paper.
“Dank yew. Am make bestest booksie ‘fo daddeh tu.” He watched with curious wonder as she gripped the crayon box with her mouth, gently upended it. Crayons rolled against the floor and she’d take one in her mouth, plopping down to the floor and beginning to clumsily doodle against a page.
So that’s what they would do for awhile. Working separately on their own projects. Lawrence going about things with the same dedicated approach he took to every task: Trying one thing, adjusting it, trying out another style. These things had to be perfect for his readers. They might be young but he cared for them. Though he was somewhat dour, he never wanted what they read to be a disposable experience. Every so often he would glance to Sparkles who was also hard at work.
So it would be, the time passing away amicably. Finally he’d finished with what he had started and Sparkles seemed ready to show him what she had come up with too. There were a pile of scribbled on pages but she nudged one in particular toward him with a scrape of her hoof against the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he could actually tell what it was. Children, fans as they were, sent him their own art sometimes. It gave him an amazing ability to decipher the most cryptic of illustrations. A black stick figure, yellow squiggles with red over it, a pink off-circle with noodly legs.
“It must be you and I, enjoying a spaghetti dinner. I seem to remember something in the literature about you fluffies enjoying it.”
She gave him an unabashedly goofy smile. “Wub skettis, yis.”
Well, they had worked long enough. Putting away all the art materials and going to get dinner prepared, he found no problem with making spaghetti. It was economical, easy to prepare, tasty. Once it had been prepared and the servings ladled out, he set the bowl containing Sparkle’s in front of her. Eyes grew wide.
“Dis am bestes’ skettis! Wooooaawwwww!” Stuffing her face down in it, she begin snarfing it up. Lawrence gave a wry little smile.
“Slowly. You’ll hurt your tummy.” Sparkles lifted her head up, tail swishing behind her. Sauce covered her face, and she’d nod.
“Daddeh su smawties!” Lawrence took the chance to reach out with a linen napkin, fussily blotted away sauce from the fur on her face. He could be a bit of a mother hen, after all. Sparkles returned to eating, this time with proper care. Sitting down to enjoy his own plate of noodles, he stared ahead at the wallpaper as he did most every night when having dinner.
After dinner had been cleared and the dishes washed, he would allow Sparkles to play on her own as he went to shower. It was early in the evening but he went to bed early and rose far before the sun did. After retreating from the bathroom in his pajamas, he found the fluffy waiting outside the door.
“Spawkew am sweepy, daddeh. Wan sweepies pwease.” The fluffy had her own bed. He already had a feeling that he knew what this was leading up to.
“Come, now. You can sleep in your own bed. I’ll tell you a story.” Frowning a bit and apparently having her dreams dashed before they could begin, Sparkles followed him to the saferoom which was all hers. A few toys were littered about the place, the result of her follies earlier.
“Let’s pick up your toys, Sparkles. A clean house is a clean heart.” Watching him begin to pick up various things, the fluffy nodded and followed suit. She could at least place stuffy-friends into the toybox while he fussed about with the blocks and such. Everything had to be placed just so. Perfectly aligned, even numbers. After it had all been sorted and made just right, he’d sit down and pat her big plush bed. Reached over to flick on the nightlight. According to the pamphlet allotted to him, they were incredibly afraid of the dark. Sparkles stepped over, plopped down on the bed. Looked up to him expectantly.
“This story begins with a princess named Sparkles.” He began, causing Sparkles to squeal with joy. That was HER name! And a princess was something very important! At the breeding facility they had been housed at they got to watch cartoons made for children and princesses were very pretty big mummahs. So the story would be: It’s not much to say, a benign tale for children at bedtime where everything was cozy and of course included them as an element. Halfway into it, he’d discovered that she had fallen asleep. Unfurling a blanket and tucking it over her, he gave her head a gentle pat and went to retire to his own bed.
The next morning, he found that Sparkles had woken up before he could. The alarm clock chimed at 4 AM every morning though his eyes opened five minutes before that. 3:55. That’s when he woke up every day. Even if he was sick with the flu, that was the routine. The routine was incredibly important. Today, though? He could hear Sparkles rooting around in her saferoom. Singing softly, squeaking a ball, tippering back and fourth rapidly as if scampering about. Sliding out of bed, Lawrence stretched and got dressed. Time to begin the day.
“Having fun, Sparkles?” He asked the mare, flipping the light on in her saferoom as only the nightlight had been illuminating it before. The fluffy gave a chirrup of excitement and bounded over to him, getting on her back legs and waggling her front hooves out.
“Spawkews gib daddeh huggies! Pwease?” Bending down, he scooped her up and let her hug and giggle against him. After setting her down, she ran over to the kibble station and began gobbling up food. Going through the process of cleaning out her littertray and making sure everything in the room was properly straightened up, he’d go to dispose of the trash and wash his hands.
The early morning hours were spent with breakfast and work. Every day, he had the same breakfast. Unbuttered, lightly toasted bread. A single poached egg. A weak mug of tea. Sparkles was there too and he’d handed off her art supplies so she could studiously try to match him at working. The illustration she’d given him yesterday was stowed away in the art closet and he’d keep whatever she gave him today, too.
After the sun had fully risen and shone buttery rays of spring sunshine through the windows, he decided that enough work had been done for now. Putting away his art supplies, he’d bend down to accept what Sparkles had come up with. A stick figure, large red circle, and pink circle.
“We’re playing ball. That’s great, Sparkles.” A pet-pat to the top of her head. The coloring page was slipped next to the other one in the art closet. Turning to a pegboard that held some items on the wall, he’d pull down a floppy hat and drag it over his balding head.
“Would you like to help me garden, Sparkles?” He asked her, and the fluffy nodded. She didn’t exactly know what it entailed but it meant going out to the fenced in backyard and she was all about that. The fluffy scampered along the still dew-kissed grass, climbed on top of a pile of potting soil.
“Wook daddeh! Spawkew suuuuu uppsies! Teehee! Am bestest espowah!” Though she was only perhaps two feet off the ground, the mare seemed hesitant to try and get down.
“Hewp Spawkew, daddeh?” She asked him, holding her front legs out for assistance. Gently scooping the fluffo up and placing her safely down, the man would nod to a cheerful little row of daffodils which were fully in bloom.
“Pwetty! Su pwetty!” Getting up to the flowers and pressing her nose against one, she sniffed it. It didn’t smell much like anything, but it did cause her to wrinkle up her little face and sneeze. Lawrence untucked a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away at her nose.
“They are, aren’t they? I love them. It makes me terribly sad to see them wilt and fade away at the end of the season.” His eyes became distant for a moment, the watering can in his hand tipping over slightly and sloshing water over. Sparkles hugged against his leg.
“Nu saddies, otay? Daddeh am be happeh daddeh. Huggies ‘n wubbies.” Lawrence looked down to her. Their second day, still as dedicated to try and make him happy. In truth, he always had a sense of ennui clinging to him. Felt at times that his brain had been immersed in ice-water.
“Of course.” Watering his precious little flowers, Sparkles watched for a moment before going around the yard to explore. It was fenced in so she had no chance of wandering off, and there weren’t such dangers such as chemicals or dangerous tools laying around.
“Oh! Nyu buggy fwend!” She cooed to a bee which landed on a nearby bunch of flowers. Turning slightly to see her marvel at the buzzing little insect, Lawrence smiled.
“That’s a bee. They’re very helpful to everyone in the world, so it is indeed a friend. But you should leave them alone.” Sparkles marveled at the bee. It really helped everyone in the world? It was so tiny. Even smaller than her. She was a good fluffy and decided to join Lawrence once more though, the man finishing up with the task of watering.
“Would you like to play fetch?” He asked her. They weren’t dogs but just about any pet worth their salt could play that. Nodding excitedly, Sparkles watched as her owner went into the house and came back with a bright red ball.
“Go on, girl! Get it!” He said, flinging the ball out with little force. It bounced, rolled through the neatly manicured yard. Though it stood out quite well to anyone paying half a wit of attention, it took her a moment to find it.
“Teehee…baww…wewe am yew?” Sparkles shuffled back and fourth looking for it. Well. They weren’t the most intelligent things out there but he could forgive them that for the pure earnest nature in the actions. Finally, she located it and squeezed it against her teeth. It squeaked, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle with delight.
Squeak squeak squeak! SQUEAK!
Lawrence beckoned a hand at her, the mare apparently lost in the moment and squeezing the ball with rapid presses of her teeth. Finally she came skittering back over to him, let the ball plop out of her mouth. He caught it with his handkerchief, wiped saliva from it before casting it into the yard once more.
“I used to have a dog when I was younger. We played fetch all the time. His name was Jack.” He wasn’t exactly sure why the words had left his mouth. Or even if Sparkles was paying attention. She was fanning out across the yard in search of the elusive toy. Had actually stepped over it once or twice. Finally, she found it and brought it back to him. Plopped back down to the handkerchief, the man rubbing it clean.
“Daddeh hab bawky-fwend? Wewe am bawky-fwend?” She asked him, looking around to see where Jack was. Nowhere to be found of course.
Should he tell her the truth? He felt ridiculous. Explaining such a thing to a creature that so carefree and happy. And the thought of the old dog had brought a lump to his throat.
“Never mind that.” Lawrence stated, the ball spinning from one hand and bouncing against the fence. Sparkles was off like a shot after it and that was that. She didn’t bring up Jack again, and neither did he. The old cur lingered in the back of his brain though.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
A week had passed and Mr. Price found the arrangement quite suitable. Sparkles was a fantastic companion. Not particularly demanding, well mannered (as far as a fluffy could be, anyways), never one for throwing a fit or misbehaving. Though there was the one matter.
During the evenings the two would watch television together. Sometimes. It wasn’t something which he enjoyed all that much. The news was to be avoided at all costs. It meant only more earthquakes, crimes gone unsolved, politicians arguing. The things on television were violent. Unpleasant. Unsettling. Even the cartoons aimed at children lacked civility. His beloved mother, rest her soul, would have called it ‘Filth for filth’s sake’.
There was a recently released channel, however. Something made for fluffies directly by Hasbio. It had replaced the slot of one of those home shopping networks which were doubtlessly being lost to the advantages of the Internet.
Sparkles quite simply adored the FluffTV channel. It was a kaleidoscope of enchanting, soft colors. Pleasant noises. Fluffies having fun and playing together. There were sing-along programs, ones where fluffies visited interesting locales, or instructional videos for expectant or new owners. Her favorite show?
“Daddeh! Daddeh, Mummah Time! Wook!” She pointed a hoof at the television. The now familiar tune of the ‘Mummah Time’ show started up. The concept was simple: It showcased new mothers of chirpies and how their mothers took care of them. Nursing, keeping their hygiene regulated with licks, encouraging them. Inoffensive. Even pleasant enough background noise for his current activity, which was putting together a jigsaw puzzle of a boat on the open ocean. Lawrence looked up from his puzzle, nodded.
“That’s right.” He commented, right back to the puzzle. A man of almost unshakable focus when his mind wasn’t wandering. The simple entertainment of figuring out where each piece fit was again halted when he felt a tug at his trousers.
“What is it, Sparkles?” Asked with the tone of someone whose patience was infinite, albeit a bit pressed.
“Spawkew wan babbehs! Wike on teebee! Pwease? Pwease daddeh? Spawkew wan wots ob babbehs ‘n be gud mummah.” She looked up to him at his place on the couch, the man pursing his lips. Before he could give a response she continued.
“Spawkew wub widdew babbehs. An’…an’ am gud fwuffy. Sing mummah song! An’ gib wicky-cweanies! Pwease?” He’d relented to many of her requests. They were simple and at times amused him or provided content for the book he was still illustrating.
“Absolutely not.” Lawrence stated with the authority required. Stern enough to get the point across, yet not too aggressive. He was not an aggressive man, only one which prized order.
“Buh…buh…Spawkew wan babbehs! Daddeh! Daddeh!” Her owner had stopped paying her any mind for the moment. To answer begging and pleading when a declaration on the matter had been passed was pointless and only further encouraged it.
“DADDDEEHHHH! Spawkew am hewe! Wook at Spawkew! Daddeh! Daddeh daddeh daddeh! Eeeeee! EEEEEEE!” Tantrums were nothing new to Lawrence. His audience, after all, were children. He’d been around enough to know not to feed into it.
“Spawkew wan babbehs wite NAOW daddeh! Yew wet Spawkew hab babbehss. Naow!” The mare poked the carpet with one hoof as the demands were laid out. Still no answer from him. Her attitude didn’t matter in the slightest and she could carry on like this as long as she needed to.
“Dummeh daddeh! Spawkew nu am wub yew! Hae’chu daddeh!” Though her voice wasn’t one of hate. Frustration and neediness, perhaps, but it was hard to imagine a fluffy possessing an ounce of true hate. Ignoring her had work quite well until she decided to tackle her body against the tray containing his puzzle, sending the tray crashing down. Pieces spilled out all over the floor. Work lost, though could you call it work when it was just a way to pass time? Sparkle looked at the mess she had created with a somewhat horrified expression.
“Spawkew…Spawkew su am sowwy. Nu mean….” The fluffy was picked up, hoisted off the floor. He wasn’t a violent man so she wouldn’t be receiving a sorry-sticking as was instructed in the pamphlet from Hasbio. That was barbaric. Cruel. Instead, she was brought to her saferoom and plopped down.
“If you want to be a brat, you can stay in your room all night. No spaghetti. You’re missing the rest of ‘Mummah Time’. I won’t be telling you a story.” Sparkle looked up to him, eyes watering before fully breaking out into tears. He watched as they tracked down her pudgy little cheeks.
“Spawkew am sowwy?” She asked in a quavering voice as he turned to leave the room without a response. The door was quietly closed behind him and Sparkle didn’t bother to dispute her situation. Lawrence heard snuffling sobs from the room as he’d gone back to the parlor to clean up the puzzle pieces. It gave his heart a pang. Not more than the acknowledgment of what she had asked for.
‘Babies’. Toys didn’t ask to have babies. They didn’t throw a tantrum and try to bargain. Toys existed for the amusement of others. Sparkles was a living thing. He’d never made living creatures, actual ones, the subjects of his books. When letters from all over came to his postal box, he had the satisfaction of reading messages messily scrawled in crayon or pencil and knowing that what they enthused about were pleasant things. They were nice things forever confined to the pages. These things never aged. Got sick. Died. They didn’t have meltdowns after having parenthood denied. Lawrence retired to bed earlier than usual that evening, unsettling realizations branching through his mind.
+++++++++++++++
The next morning was quiet. Sparkles wasn’t bumbling around in her saferoom like usual. Getting up out of bed, he’d get dressed for the day and wander out into the hall. Quietly open her door, peek inside. The mare was awake but hadn’t gotten up from bed yet. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she was suckling on one hoof.
“Sparkles. You’re allowed to come out now. Let’s go work on our books.” The morning was primarily when most of his work was done, and by extension, her own. The silly pages she’d made for her were making quite a sizable stack at this point. Sparkles looked ashamed to have been seen suckling her hoof. That was for babbehs and she wasn’t one.
“Daddeh nu am angwy wif Spawkews? Spawkews nu am bad fwuffy?” The question gave him another one of those hearts pangs. He gave a shake of his head.
“Of course not. You’re a very pleasant fluffy. Let’s work.” Sparkles stormy expression changed to a sunny one. Flying off of her bed, she flew past him and into the kitchen with a rapid click of hooves. Following after her and grabbing their required supplies from the art closet, they began their daily routine.
Lawrence sipped tea and glanced through previous sketches. The outburst from last night would of course never make it anywhere near one of his books. The children who read them had enough conflicts. He read about them. Bullying at school, their parents fighting, this or that. There was always a point to leave his postal box address at the end of each book. Teachers thanked him because it was a useful educational tool, to go through a book and learn how to format a letter to send off talking about it. Not that many people wrote those any longer. He’d written many, going through great piles of mail and sending off personalized letters to each student who had written him. The loss of a pet. A parent. Being hungry at home. Being afraid. There were many happy messages too, but the unpleasant things always stuck. It was almost impossible to not worry about each one of those children. Unpleasant thoughts had to be pushed aside. Illustrations filled pages. Not that many of them would be used. Remember? It had to be just right.
After the sun had risen, Lawrence got up to wash out his tea mug and inspect Sparkle’s illustration as he always. A stick figure, a large round pink circle, lots of brightly colored dots. He knew what it was right away.
“You’ve got so many babies, Sparkles. Very impressive.” The page was shelved with the others, carefully tucked away.
“Am pweten’ babbehs. Nu am weal. Spawkew hab pweten’ babbehs ‘an am gud fwuffy.” She smiled, though it looked wistful. Obviously she still wanted them. There was no begging though. No trying to convince him that it was for the best and everything would be great for having them
“It’s good to pretend. It’s all of the fun of something with none of the consequences. If something doesn’t fit, you can always think of something new.” Lawrence said to her, though that likely all flew right over her head. Pretending=Good. That was the gist and she likely got that much. Walking over to the door leading to the backyard and tugging his gardening hat one, Sparkles pushed past him as it popped open and went screaming with delight into the backyard.
There had been rain last night. He hadn’t heard it but it was quickly evident. Puddles had formed on the cement of the patio and a great big puddle of mud had formed in the area where Sparkles sometimes dug. Turned out, she loved digging. If she wasn’t barraging him with a million questions as he saw to the daffodils then she was over in that patch of yard, rooting around and giggling to herself.
“Teehee! Daddeh! Wook! Eeeeee! YAAAYYYY!” Sparkles had plowed into the mud where she’d made a patchwork of the lawn. Skidded her hooves across it and made sliding tracks.
“Sparkles! You’ll get….” Before he could finish with the thought the fluffy had flopped down in the mud and wormed around.
“Dis am fun gamesie! Wub! Su fun!” Well. She was already covered in mud. Letting her enjoy herself wouldn’t hurt anything now. Sighing, Lawrence went about the work of, well, nothing. The daffodils were watered. Instead he sank down on a single patio chair that was set out, not caring for the dampness of it but coping. Sparkles twisted and turned through the mud. Pushed it together to make little mud pies. Stamped her hooves in it and gasped at the smooshy impressions left behind. Her owner watched with a quiet sort of amusement, eyes wandering around the garden every so often. There was little else in the world he liked less than dirtiness. Seeing things in a state of disarray was a disquieting matter for him. Even a dust bunny in the corner of a room was enough to make him nervous in it’s own way.
At any rate, Sparkles was now as much mud as she was a fluffy. The mare walked up to him practically dripping the stuff. Patches of wet grass were clumped into her fur, and the only clean area he could see was a small ring of pink fur around her eyes. Lawrence went to slide gardening gloves over his hands, going over to fussily inspect the fluffy. There were earthworms wiggling around her fur and he plucked each off with the care of a man diffusing a bomb.
“Dey am sketti-fwend? Teehee…nu wowwy, fwends. Spawkew nu num yew.” She told the worms, and Lawrence had to smile at how goofy that was. He had expected her to be grossed out.
“They’re earthworms. Just like bees, they’re very helpful. They spend all day helping plants grow. Isn’t that nice?” The mare nodded, splattering mud on the ground.
“Su speciaw. Wub yew fwends.” The earthworms were set back onto the soil so they could find themselves back down.
“Stay here, Sparkles.” Lawrence instructed, getting up and peeling off his work gloves. The fluffy was free to wander around the yard but stayed right in place as instructed, though she kept tip-tapping her hooves against the ground as if wanting to bolt around and play. Her owner brought out a small washtub that Hasbio had sent over. A pamphlet had instructed him that they were quite afraid of water but it seemed like anything manufactured by them set them at ease to some degree. The tub had cutesy little duckies along the side, and was designed in such a way that a fluffy could comfortably sit inside yet peer over with ease.
“Wat am dat, daddeh? New toysie?” She asked and he nodded. In a way, anyways. If she wanted to think of it as a toy that could make things easier. The next 10 minutes or so was spent carrying out buckets of hot water from inside to fill the tub. Bottles of various different soaps and fluffy towels were placed to the side of it, arranged carefully by their functions and size.
“Daddeh, dat am wawa. Wawa bad ‘fo fwuffies.” She pointed out, holding out a muck-covered hoof.
“But look.” Lawrence dumped a fair amount of bubble bath into the hot water. Stuck an arm in, churned the water against the tub so that the bubbles began to froth up and roil against the edges. It smelled pleasantly like cotton candy and this definitely got the fluffy’s attention.
“I’m going to be right here with you. So no fussing.” He told her, lifting the dirty fluffy up and gently sliding her down into the bubble-filled water. Of course once it made contact with her she got a look of fear, but Lawrence dispelled it by collecting a bunch of bubbles against the palm of one hand and blowing it so that it floated out like a cloud.
“Teehee…” Sparkles tried it for herself, blowing out at the bubbles. They shifted and swirled from the tub in lazy clusters.
“Are you scared of water now, Sparkles?” He asked while scrubbing away at her fluff. The water around her grew black quickly and despite that bothering him immensely he’d carry on with the task with all the attention required.
“Nu! Wawa su funsies! Wuv wawa!” Splishing her hooves against the bubbly surface, Lawrence had some of it dredge up against him. Well, it was inevitable. Just to seal the deal even more, he had a surprise: A shower mitten in the shape of a little frog!
‘Hello, Sparkles!’ he did his best frog voice. It wasn’t fantastic, but Sparkles didn’t seem to mind. She looked at the thing on his hand, bobbing around like a sock puppet.
“Hewwo nyu fwend. Spawkew am Spawkew. Yew hab namesie?” She asked him, and the mitten ‘nodded’ it’s green yeah.
‘I’m Froggy! I love baths! Thank you for being so good!’ Froggy poked out toward her, ‘hugged’ her. Sparkles hugged the mitten back, looking awestruck by the entire experience.
It was an easy going after that. Maybe fluffies didn’t hate water after all. Maybe…just maybe, they needed to be worked with and treated with care. At any rate, Sparkles had her coat cleaned and conditioned. Helped out from the tub, flicking water everywhere as she rapidly shook herself around. The mare smiled brightly as he looped plush towels around her, briskly dried up as much of the water as she could.
“Smeww su pwetty daddeh. Feew pwetty. Dank yew. Yew am bestes’ daddeh.” Sparkles told him this every day but right now it felt even more as if she felt it.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was early in the evening. Sparkles had asked for her art supplies to begin working on something. A rare matter seeing as they usually worked in the morning but that wouldn’t stop her. There must be something pressing at her that she needed to get down. He understood the sentiment, though he only had one more page to finish. Honestly, he could drag his heels and wait it out.
Lawrence was sipping from a glass of milk when she finally announced from the floor: ‘Spawkew am done! Daddeh, booksie am done!“ Ah, well, see? She had been hard at work. The number of pages in her book numbered his own. Just like him, she only selected one piece of art to add and discarded the others. Getting up from the table, he’d bend down to pick up the paper and decipher what it was.
It was…well, even he had trouble deciphering it. The stick figure that represented him, the pink circle that was her along with the rainbow dots of her imaginary babies, though they were standing on yellow scribbles with red overtop. That was how she made spaghetti. Why would they be standing on spaghetti? Certainly it was a great muse for her but he had to ask.
“We’re standing on spaghetti. We’re not going to eat it after that, are we?” He joked, wanting her to explain what was going on. Sparkles waggled her tail.
“Siwwy daddeh. Dat am skettiwand. It am bestes’ pwace in da…in da anyfing! Daddeh ‘n Spawkew an’ babbehs aw wib in skettiwand an’ haf funsies!” That was confusing. Well, an imaginary place called skettiland. He had to give it to her: Quite complex given her usual line of reasoning. Holding the paper close, he went to slide it into the art closet.
“Since you’re done, I guess I’ll stop fooling around and get finished too. Would you like skettis to celebrate all your hard work? I’m proud of you.” He was, too. In his own way. It had obviously taken the fluffy quite a lot of thought to make her ‘book’. A work that would be illegible to most people. The fluffy nodded.
“Am wowk su hawd, ‘nee skettis ‘fo bestest thinkies.” She announced in a serious tone. It got a laugh out of him.
So she enjoyed her spaghetti. It wasn’t a nightly treat so when she received it, it was a well-loved food still. Lawrence sat at the table. Not particularly hungry tonight. Just how things were. Writing tablet at the ready, a few pencils handy, though he wasn’t using it yet. Perhaps just thinking.
“Well. It’s time for you to get to bed. Come on.” Lawrence led her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the safe room. The fluffy plowed down against her cushion bed, waited for daddeh to tuck her blankie over her. Smiled.
“Stowy?” She asked, her owner nodding and reaching out to rub a hand against her cheek affectionately.
“This story is about about a princess named Sparkles.” That’s usually how her nightly tale began. She never got tired of it.
“Princess Sparkles lived in a kingdom where everyone loved her. It was called Skettiland. Everywhere she went, she made lots of friends. Whenever someone was sad, she would hug them and make them happy.” This was Sparkles cue to shift around in her bed and hold her front legs out, Lawrence shouldering in so she could squeeze up against one arm.
“Skettiland was a wonderful place. Wherever you looked, there was lots of yummy things to eat. Every tree had toys growing from it! Even the water was lots of fun for all the little fluffies, since it had lots of bubbles and was very safe.”
Sparkle’s eyes had grown dozy by this point but it was clear that she was trying to stay awake. He was speaking about skettiland, after all. It was a place she had thought up with her own thinky-pwace. Or maybe her mummah had told her about it once?
“Am daddeh wif Princess Spawkew?” She asked in an innocent tone. Lawrence gave a wry smile.
“Of course. All the fluffies there have daddy’s and momma’s who play with them all day long. They’re never lonely.”
Sparkle had been suckling against her hoof for a moment. She felt cozy. Very sleepy. Content and well at ease. He gently went to remove the hoof from her mouth. According to her, it was for babies. And she wasn’t one.
Lawrence watched her. The rhythmic rise and fall as she breathed. A twitching of her front hooves to indicate that she was already dreaming and maybe, just maybe, having a fun adventure in skettiland.
It would stop though. Not just the slight movements, everything. The mare had stopped breathing. There was no gasping, hacking, choking. It was as if her body had just been frozen in place. He moved a finger out, testing the air around her nostrils and mouth. Not the slightest shift.
That night’s spaghetti dinner had contained a new ingredient: Pain pills left over from when he had surgery on his back. Enough to possibly even cause a human to overdose. She was gone now. That empty feeling came into his head. Why? Why do such a thing? He couldn’t quite explain it. The fluffy made him happy. Yet the happiness was weighed with sadness. An irrevocable depression that had lingered ever since she’d popped out of the box. The knowledge that she would one day go away. The thoughts of how and why had ate at him. Maybe she’d get out one day and get hit by a car. Or get sick and waste away: Becoming an ugly, sad thing from disease. It was out of his control. Things which were out of his control scared him just as much as water apparently frightened fluffies. The thought of some grisly or drawn out end to her didn’t suit him. It didn’t suit what his book would represent.
He had given her the best life for the short time he had been working on his book. The book was at an end though. Almost. Staring at her lifeless body, a small trickle of drool still hanging from a contentedly pursed mouth, he had given her something that he could control: A well mannered end. So he began work on the last page. This time there didn’t need to be corrections or multiple pieces created. There was one, a single piece which would see it’s way to the completed work. The urge for meticulous nitpicking was lost. This was an expression of love. For her, to his readers too. For him it was self-motivated. A need to try and moderate a world which was cruel. A place where nastiness was rewarded and good things were tossed into the gutter.
