The Dummy Poopie Baby
“Wast one!”
Hemley placed the final foal in his mate’s hooves and backed off, catching his breath. Their first litter, born in a cardboard box alley, was a momentous occasion - but stressful, too. When Minnow, his pretty special friend, had started crying about biggest poopies … well, Hemley had panicked. He had just run in circles and squares as Minnow cried, and it was only when she called for his help that he finally set to work on helping her deliver the babies.
He didn’t clean them, of course. The moment a baby had come out and started chirping, Minnow begged to hold it and clean it herself, so Hemley just made sure the foals came out safely and were transferred to his mate’s waiting embrace.
It wasn’t much, but it still left him stressed and out of breath as he admired his new family. Four healthy, pretty (well currently grimy) foals, and a beautiful (well okay, also currently grimy) young mare tending to them.
But suddenly, Minnow gasped in shock and dismay. Hemley’s ears flipped forward. “Speshuw fwiend? What’s wong?”
“Dis babbeh am Poopie babbeh,” Minnow complained. Hemley’s heart sank - he’d hoped they’d sidestep the issue altogether, with Minnow’s pretty silver-blue color and his own rosy pink fur, but no amount of pretty genetics could prevent a brown baby. But more than that, Minnow had always been a kind and loving mare, and he never thought she would speak those cursed words coined by bad mothers. Poopie babbeh.
“Nuh!” he protested as he rushed to her side, counting the babies - a yellow colt lay chirping against her chest fluff alongside two red and blue fillies, and to his horror a dully dark brown colt lay in the mare’s hooves, only half cleaned. Hemley’s lip quivered. “Dat nu am poopie babbeh, aww babbehs awe gud babbehs!”
Minnow just shook her head with a huff of disdain. “Nuh, dis am Poopie babbeh.”
Despairing, Hemley tried to find the words to convince his beloved mate as she finished licking the brown foal clean. He loved all the foals so much, and the thought of one being left behind and neglected and abused just because of its coat was unbearable. “But… but…”
Minnow shoved herself up to a sit, giving her husband a look that more than anything seemed to accuse him of being colorblind. Before he could speak she raised the foal in her hooves, and then … placed it at her teat. Hemley blinked, his despair giving way to confusion. Had his mate just declared a foal to be awful, then decided to feed it first?
“What Hemwey wan name othew babbehs?” Minnow asked as if she’d done nothing out of the ordinary. “Weddy babbeh name can be Wosie, an’ yewwow babbeh am Sunny. An’ bwownie babbeh am Poopie.”
“Oh, uh…” Taken out of his stunned state Hemley stared down at the three other babies, one having crawled to the teat beside Poopie’s and the other two pawing uselessly for food. A name for a blue foal …? It took him a good few seconds to think of one. “Oh, uh, bwue babbeh name am Fishy!”
Time passed and Hemley grew no less confused. Minnow regarded Poopie with dismay, yet she didn’t treat him badly. Quite the opposite, in fact - he always got first shot at the milk and always got to drink himself full. When they walked Minnow would carry him in her mouth, where he was the safest, while the other three got to ride on her back. She pointedly kept him far away from any dirty or poopy places, and fussily cleaned him much more often than she did the others. Even when they were resting, she let the other three snuggle against her belly while she hugged Poopie in her forelegs.
He would have thought Poopie was her favorite if not for her attitude about the whole thing. She kept referring to him as a ‘dummeh poopeh babbeh’ and huffing over the fact she gave him special treatment, as if she was being forced to. But she treated the ‘dummy poopie babbeh’ phrase as though it was closer to ‘silly chirpy baby’ than ‘awful horrid ugly baby’, and it just lead to even more confusion.
When the foals were getting too big to carry all at once, and Minnow’s very first reaction was to let Poopie ride her back while the other three walked alongside her, Hemley knew he had to ask. “Minnow?”
“What is it, speshuw fwiend?” she asked innocently, tilting her head a little bit.
“… Am Poopie bestest ow poopie babbeh?”
The blue mare stared blankly. “Poopie am dummeh poopie babbeh, what ewse?”
“But… Speshuw fwiend tweats Poopie wike bestest babbeh?”
Minnow huffed. “Dat’s because Poopie am poopie babbeh!”
Now it was Hemley’s turn to stare blankly. What kind of logic was that? Either you were the bestest or a poopie, there wasn’t any in-between state of Bestest Poopie Babbeh. Seeing his confusion Minnow rolled her eyes and sat down, taking Poopie from her back.
“Minnow see wots of babbehs an’ ask wots of mummahs when Minnow was soon-mummah,” she explained. “An’ othah mummahs say poopie babbehs awe bad babbehs.”
Okay, that made sense. It at least explained why she’d consider the very concept of a Poopie Babbeh.
“Poopie babbehs nu can wawk fast, an’ swow down famiwy,” continued Minnow. “An’ dey need much mowe miwkies, if yu gif dem same amount as othew babbehs dey get tummy huwties an’ go fowevah sweepies. An’ dey wuv goin’ in poopies and gettin’ diwty so dey gotta be cweaned aww da time, an’ yu gotta keep twack of dem ow ewse dey woww in mud an’ poopies an’ othew yucky things.”
With an air of definitiveness, she put Poopie down on the ground in front of her, the foal wide-eyed as though just learning his whole life was a lie. “Minnow nu wanted Poopie babbeh cuz is so much mowe wowk, but nu am gunna wet babbeh take fowevah sweepies.”
Hemley plopped to a sit, speechless. That was the reason? All the conflicting signals, all the weirdly bully-esque favoritism, was because she was so innocent that she saw other mares’ poopie babbehs and just thought that was a poopie babbeh’s natural state? Not the result of abuse or neglect or being denied proper food, just. The way they always ended up unless given extra care.
“Hemwey undahstand?” asked Minnow as she began to nudge Poopie back into her fluff. “Poopie am poopie babbeh, an’ need extwa cawwy an’ cweanies.”
“Oh.” He would have to explain the true meaning of a Poopie Babbeh to her. It’d shatter her innocence, maybe lead to a big argument as she refused to believe him, but it was necessary.
… Just maybe not now, when they were preparing to move. Tonight, when they were settling down for the night, would be a much better time. And thus, Hemley just sort of nodded. “Hemwey undahstand.”
He paused for a brief moment.
“… Minnow am gud mummah.”
Minnow beamed. “Of couwse!”