Shadow’s log-
week 9, part 2. Friday
Monday’s experiment seems to have gone well. The feeder fluffy Foxfire has ‘adopted’ has been less aggravating than expected. The earth fluffy is apparently an abandoned pet, rather than a feral, and has cleaned up remarkably well. Pale silver fluff, mane and tail a very Halloween mix of pumpkin orange and black, named Marnie in what I can only assume is a Halloween-town reference. If I’d realized how much of her murky appearance had been dirt instead of bad coloring, I might have pulled her with the others to begin with. More to the current point, she’s relatively well behaved, and having a companion closer to her own size has distracted Foxfire from inventing new ways to make me edit the rules.
The boys just seem to be avoiding her, thus far, and Marnie is far too terrified of all of them to press the issue. She’s scared of Foxfire as well, but seems to have defaulted to appeasing behavior, which works out to doing anything she asks. Foxfire just seems to think Marnie is the best friend ever. Ignorance is bliss. There were a few hiccups when Foxfire tried to offer her bits of fluffy meat out of her bowl and Marnie had a bit of a breakdown. “Pwease, nu wan num hewd, nu num Mewon, pwease…” and so on. Maybe I should have waited a few more days before dishing up bits of the orange fluffy, given time for the scent to fade. Ah, well.
Foxfire was both baffled and a little hurt over the response, Marnie seemed suddenly very aware that her new “friends” were the same fluffies who murdered and ate half her herd. As amusing as Foxfire alternatively huffing and trying to hug Marnie out of the panic attack, I caved after five minutes or so. Drained ramen, microwaved discount sauce, and behold, the crying stopped and excited gratitude began. By the time they finished sharing the little bowl, they were all friends again. Sometimes, I love these idiots.
Of course, the moment any form of “Sketti” came out, three more sets of eyes started their best puppy imitation. Aurora came within inches of getting the rubber toe of my high tops up her tail. Went so far as to puff her fucking cheeks at me before Glory kicked her in the hock and what little sense she has kicked in. That filly is cruising for a fucking bruising, Dave. George watched the Pack yesterday while I made the grocery run and was printing me out pillowing guides by the time I got back.
I mean, I’m aware that’s his go to solution for everything. And it really hasn’t hit that point yet. She’s a sneaky, defiant little bitch who needs a ‘Come to Odin’ conversation desperately, but ersatz surgery seems a little uncalled for, much less dismembering. The moment she outright crosses the lines I set instead of just having a bad attitude about this, she can move into one of the kennel runs by herself. You guys do you, but I’m not going to pillow her over a few insults and huffy fits. (Before you ask, Dave, the shredder is being touchy. So, the guides are just going to stay in a drawer in the exam room until Kal gets a chance to check it over. Not going to risk jamming it with a full stack of printouts. Yes, that is the only reason I still have them. Stop calling how I do my job “Sus”, I’m not an abuser.)
Rook and Glory restricted themselves to looking cute and plaintive and uttering a single ‘Pwease?”, and I did give them each half of the remaining poverty sketti. Aurora did not get sketti, because she didn’t ask nicely enough, and just because I’m not dismembering or abusing her doesn’t mean I’m a doormat.
Regardless! I’ve been looking up the insurance recommendations for fluffy/ alicorn daycare as compared to the breeding facility we’re already zoned and registered as, and it might be do-able. Still waiting to see how long the kiddos can behave around Marnie before I risk bringing in other peoples valuable pets. The surrogate mares are supposed to show up tomorrow, and I’m already debating round the clock, suicide watch level supervision until I’m certain everyone is on the same page with getting along. Or the other inner kennel runs are options, or the large wall cages we’re using for the feeder fluffy stock we’re keeping, but given how fragile implanted pregnancies are I’d prefer to keep them in the best environment possible. Already planning on moving them into the weanling pen the pack started in as soon as the litters are born. It’s foal safe for a reason.
Other news- Glory’s wing is patched up as it’s gonna get. He’s going to be short those feathers until he molts, but it doesn’t hurt where the pinions were ripped out anymore. Aurora took a nasty little bruise and a decent scrape where the unicorn tried stabbing her, but a little insta-heal gel took care of that. Foxfire had a few bruises down her belly and hindlegs, probably from that little spat with the earth toughy. Rook had a slight strain to one wing, (footage of Aurora thumping him explained that) and a few bone shards lodged between his hooves. Easy fix, had to trim his hooves and Glory’s anyways, and they both find Hoof Gp as soothing background noise for it.
Also, fine mesh laundry bags work to wash and dry pulled fluff on low heat. They have lined their crate cushions with it, packed down. It’s the stuffy fluff all over again, except Foxfire didn’t take any. She moved Marnie into her nestie, and seemed to get that using that fluff would upset her new friend.
The outside feeder herd is still traumatized. Upped the kibble rations, added a few more water bowls, made George and Randy put the refilling bottles back on. All three of the mares are pregnant, but at vastly different points. The smarty’s mate should give birth any day now, not that that changes anything. Unless the bitey little bitch births an alicorn or something unbelievably spectacular, they’re all staying as feeders. Might give a little more sympathy to the other litters when they come, if there are any good colors or outstanding personalities. (by which I mean if Randy or Jake come to me and point them out level outstanding personality. The too precious for George to want to kill kind of fluffy, if they exist.) That said, ten more feeder fluffies are being delivered on Tuesday. Undecided whether I’ll just turn them out with the four once I pull the best or put them in one of the other runs.
The three obviously pregnant dams I pulled when this batch arrived are nearly ready to pop, (hopefully not literally). One of them isn’t much to look at, a dull brick red with a slightly darker mane, but she’s been compliant enough, if she turns out decent foals she can stay as breeding stock. She’s also the closest to—
Well, speak of demons. Brick red- whose name is apparently Pepper, just had her foals. The joy of working in an office right across from the smaller kennel rooms, being in easy earshot. The other two don’t seem far behind her, so I’m going to stay up a bit longer and leave a baby monitor when I go to bed, just like I do for the rooms the Pack are in. It was an easy birth, at least, and she’s happily looking after all the newborns. All seven of them, so I gave her an extra ration of kibble and will probably ask Katy to run in more supplies of formula mix and higher grade fluffy food. She did say something about breeder specialty brands last time we talked. The teal pegasus, the sunshine yellow unicorn, the two dark red unicorns, and the orange pegasus I have hope for, the mustard pegasus and dull red earthy less so. No alicorns, not that I expected any. I’m not reaching in the cage to check sexes at two in the morning unless I have to.
Oh, and I just got the email from Dave. Crescent Moon Fluffies, with the signage to show up in a few weeks when that one guy Kal knows gets around to it. Huzzah, my facility has a name, so I can finally customize the damned answering machine.
First Chapter- The Pack- because what we need is more fluffies bred to eat other fluffies. (1) by :Shadowfox
**Previous chapter-**The Pack (12)- week nine footage part 2 by Shadowfox
Next Chapter- The Pack (14) Week 10 log (Shadowfox)