“Huff huff huff… Hnnnnggghh” Andrea yelped out as she bore down and pushed out another fuzz ball into the towel that was waiting for it. “Huu huu, Andwea sowwee ‘bout bad poopies on de fwoow daddeh…” She bemoaned.
“Don’t worry about it sweetie, you’re giving birth to the cutest little things ever. I can forgive you for making a little mess. You’re doing great and remember to breathe.” I help coach her as she gets ready for the next round of contractions. She had already three baby fluffies of different colors and was still going.
“Hnnnggh! Biggest pooooopies!” She yelled as a large brown fuzzy lump is produced, her largest one yet! She lay on her haunches admiring her work, panting, sweating, and no doubt enjoying the natural high from the flood of endorphins in her system.
“Wow! Four little babies, Andrea! I didn’t know you were pregnant.” I reassure her, realizing that I got myself a whole mess of these creatures to deal with now and no way to house them all if they become as big or bigger than their mother. But that will need to be a problem for another day, right now I had to focus on cleaning up this mess and making sure the babies were good and healthy. Andrea gently nuzzles the little fuzz balls and meticulously licks and cleans the creatures until they begin to peep and chirp loudly. Each of them are born blind with their eyes shut and unable to walk but manage the strength to raise their heads and latch on to the soft underbelly of their mother and begin suckling for milk. Andrea only has two teats to nurse from so she rotates the infants out as she cleans them creating an ever changing chorus of calls for attention and food.
I start to mop up the mess. In the chaos and noise of her birth I closed the back door, but I swore I heard something tapping against it earlier, trying to get in, maybe a wild animal caught the scent of the young and afterbirth and was looking for an opportunistic snack. As she continued to nurse, Andrea gave birth to one last runt, a small white puffball that stretched and yawned awake from its natal slumber. All in all Andrea gave birth to five young fluffies of different colors but about roughly the same size, their colors were red, light-blue, pink, and the brown and white ones being the last. All of the young looked healthy and were getting their turns getting fed, eventually each one was filled and fell asleep against their mother’s soft fluffy belly. Andrea didn’t speak much to me aside from the occasional “Thank you” in her weird little voice. I help build a little nest of old shirts and rags for her to lay in while she recovers in the kitchen. I can see that the effort has exhausted her, so I leave her there along with a small bowl of water and cereal within reach and head in for the night.
The next morning I wake up early to the peeping procession of Andrea feeding her young. I greet Andrea and notice that she is softly singing to her children as she feeds them to the tune of the old song of “Shortnin’ Bread”:
“Mummah wuv babbehs, Babbehs wuv mummah”
“Babbehs dwink miwkies an’ gwow big n’ stwong”
She would sing it on repeat, sometimes alternating who loved who first as she would nuzzle and hug the little peeping fluffies as they were rotated out for the next one.
“Good morning, Andrea, how are you and the little ones feeling today?” I asked. She stopped her gentle singing and addressed me, “Hewwo Daddeh! Wook at de babbehs, Andwea wuv dem suu much!”
“I know! They are so precious! Do you need anything?”
“Mummah Andwea am feeding de babbehs, babbehs give Andwea biggest heawt happies, fank you fo’ nummies daddeh!” She said as she hugged one of the foals as it burped from its feast. She then changed the song to fit me in it.
“Daddeh wuv babbehs, Babbehs wuv daddeh.”
“Daddeh bwing nummies, an’ babbehs feewin gud!”
I didn’t think such a thing was possible, that these cute little things were even capable of improvisation and singing what could only be called their own version of nursery rhymes. The foals were able to shuffle around and would huddle around each other and their mother for warmth.
“Can I hold one?” I ask cautiously, seeing if the same motherly protection existed in these animals too.
“Umm, daddeh can wuv babbeh an’ hold babbeh, buh nu huwt babbeh, otay?” She said, as she gave me a cautious permission. I slowly reach out and grab the little red foal and cup it in my hand as it nestles for warmth and hugs my finger as it suckles its hoof. How could any one throw such a symbol of love and affection into an incinerator? I take the opportunity to snap a quick picture with my phone. As I admired the infant, I noticed a rounded protrusion coming its forehead, it was hard like a finger nail and looked like a budding horn on what could be called a unicorn! I gently rotate through the other babies and notice that there was one other unicorn in the litter and two others had what looked like tiny wings nestled in their back fluff. “Will these things fly when older?” I ponder to myself. There were two unicorns, two pegasus, and one that was like her mother, a plain “horse”.
The small foals had only a touch of additional colors where their manes would be and their tails were short which helped Andrea to lick their behinds to clean them if they went to the bathroom on themselves. “Blech! Nuu wike poopie wickie-cweanies” she would exclaim. I chuckled and offered to help with a warm damp rag if she needed me to, which gave me more holding time with each young foal. I was surprised to see visible genitalia on what was supposed to be a children’s toy, but knew they would probably be neutered before hitting the market, even Andrea’s teats had swollen and were more prominent after she gave birth, the company would try to prevent any breeding outside of a factory. Andrea had produced two boys, or colts, and three girls, or fillies.
I took the next few days to help Andrea get settled into motherhood. I found out that Andrea could hold all five of her offspring between her shoulders on her mane and back and walk around the house to move her children to a more convenient nesting area, which often meant in front of the television. She alternated taking them outside, maybe to teach them about nature or how to use the bathroom, I usually was stuck keeping the rest placated as they peeped and chirped for their mother. I also noticed that she liked to bring food outside as well, maybe an instinct? She never left any food outside because I warned her that it could attract scary animals that may hurt her or her babies. Her absolute terror to that reminder made me realize that I should probably get a litter box at the local pet store.
I had left my car at the motel so I had to make the hike down to where I left it before I could get to the closest pet store. I figured I would trial different foods too to see what fluffy ponies could stomach as I was unaware what was the make up of her “kibble” that she mentioned she used to eat everyday at the facility. As I picked up the items from the various stores I realized the date was just a week away from the anniversary of my wife Andrea’s death. I had been so preoccupied that I had completely forgotten! A few of our friends were scheduled to come down to the cabin and hang out this year. What am I going to tell them when they see a family of tiny horses living in the guest room?
I grab some needed extra supplies for the visiting guests and head home. I don’t notice any white vans or cars following me, which means they may have given up on trying to find or follow me. Coming home I notice the back door is wide open and there are some dirt covered hoof prints in the kitchen and where the foals were nesting in the guest room. I figured Andrea had stepped in some mud but she also made a mess of the food too.
“Andrea! What is this mess?” I demand, the stress of the anniversary and guests coming over was weighing on me.
“Andwea am sowwee, daddeh… speshuw fwiend wan see aww de babbehs…” she pouted penitently. Still going on about that imaginary friend, I would think she would be too caught up with her foals to deal with such a fantasy. I realized that I had been a bit harsh so I tried to lighten the mood.
“Always remember: If you step in some mud, don’t be a dud, please be neat and wipe your feet!” I sang to her. Her ears pricked up and a her smile widened.
“Hee hee, pwease be neat an’ wipe feetsies!” She sang back. Close enough, I thought.
“Andrea we will be having some people over soon, so it may get a little crowded, I’m going to move you and the babies to this corner in the living room, okay?”
“Otay, an’ Andwea an’ babbehs wiww nu make too much noiseies.” She was thinking that I was punishing her.
“That’s fine, also. We’re going to limit our trips outside. I got you a litter box to use. I’ll keep it by the back door, okay?” I leave her to her family. I need to get my mind and feelings straight. What am I going to tell them when they see this colorful circus with a talking toy in the middle? I’ve got a week to get ready.
Part 1: The Andrea Incident (Part 1) (Artist - Great_White_Nope)
Part 2: The Andrea Incident (part 2) (Artist- Great_White_Nope)
Part 3: The Andrea Incident (Part 3) (Artist- Great_White_Nope)
