Week 10, Shadow’s log
Sunday (technically)
So. I have been awake for most of the last two days. I managed all of three hours of sleep before the pink unicorn I pulled as brood stock started giving birth. And screaming at the top of her lungs for it. One of each, pegasus, unicorn, earthie, two salmon pink and one a dull beige tan. To top off that five am wakeup, guess which of those I had to firmly convince her to actually feed? Yeah, she’s gonna be one of those bitches. Poor sap is probably doomed to stay in the feeder herd, but he gets to grow up first. Starved foals do me no good. Luckily, she let herself be convinced. Still kept the monitor going in her cage. And she says her name is Cotton Candy, which- pale pink, pale mint and purple mane? Sure, why not, I’ll scribble it on her cage form.
By that point, both of the stallions I pulled were freaking out in their cages over the racket. It was nearly six by the time I had them shut up and the third mare calmed down enough to avoid premature labor. So I gave up on going back to bed and checked on the Pack.
All of which were up and deeply unsettled. Gave them each a scoop of mince from the fridge- (Jake thought it was pate the other day. A- read the damn container labels. B, Not yours don’t eat. Basic work fridge rules. Idiot. Luckily the mixed formula is kept in the mini fridge in the kennel room or he might try putting it in his coffee.) Marnie, under much encouragement from Foxfire, actually ate a few bites. She’s still skittish, but seems to have decided the Pack isn’t going to eat her right now. Aurora seemed pleased enough to claim the unwanted portion when Marnie moved on to the kibble none of the others will touch unless under duress. Then I turned Fluff TV on for them in the playroom, which solved the rest of the issue for most of them.
Rook decided he was going to be clingy. His reasoning seemed to involve the concept that the other fluffies’s screaming might upset me or indicate I was in distress, or at least his concern about where I was and whether I was upset. Let him follow me as I did morning chores, (mine and Randy’s. Third Saturday in a row he’s been late, out of…drumroll… Three Saturdays he’s worked. I know he’s Bill’s godson, but really?) Fed and checked the water for the kennel stallions and the dams.
Kal said this place used to board and vet dogs, which saved on some of the retrofitting. It’s got a wing of six pretty damn spacious runs, nearly six by seven feet. I’m debating moving at least Pepper to one of those once her foals are a little bigger. Right now she and the other dams are in the medium wall cages on the other side of the room. They aren’t horrible, like three feet by four, which I know is way more space than most fluffy keepers use, but, as I said, the cages were there when I got there. She just has so many damn foals, and we aren’t using the indoor runs yet.
Lot of space not used yet, Dave, but we might get there. Six runs, six of the medium wall cages, twenty of the little two by three by two cages on the adjoining walls, all of them retrofitted with water bottles. Those are the ones I tucked the stallions into, but if I move the dams over to the runs I might upgrade them. Meh. I’ll think about it.
Headed out, Rook still at heel, and checked on the outdoor herd. Found the bitey bitch hovering over a litter of six tiny foals. None of them are alicorns or pretty enough to win me over. They’re all decent colors, but not spectacular, mostly blue. If one turns up with a rainbow mane, I might relent, but up to that point- the bitch bit me. No sympathy.
Gave them a larger helping of food anyway, refilled the water. The other two mares are slowly expanding, should be next week for the green and the week after for the purple. Rook snarled just enough to scatter them to the far side of the pen, but he knows better than to break a stay to go chase them. He’s a good boy. For a chimeric abomination.
I had just enough time to settle him down on a towel under my desk and start to pull up paperwork when Katy turned up with the surrogates. Which meant any chance of a nap once I finished the paperwork was shot, at least for the next few hours. But I had Rockstar, I told myself. One overnighter is fine, I said.
Katy and I talked it over and decided settling them in the runs is the best idea for right now. Controlled environment, quiet. No variable with how the Pack girls (one worries me more than the other) will react or how these two will react to them. And the breakroom TV went wonky and is getting bolted to the wall across from the runs. It’s just a color drift and a handful of dead pixels, it’s still good enough to run Fluff TV. (Randy started bitching the moment I told him we weren’t swapping in one of the playroom TVs to replace it. The playroom and the office are going to be visible to customers someday and already are through those huge windows. They get the best stuff, he can go scrounge on Craigslist himself if he wants a new one in the kitchen.)
Settled each of them in with a bed, litterbox, water bottle and the food Bill recommended. We’ve got a pegasus that looks like a curly mopped discount fluttershy and a purple and white unicorn, not that either of their genetics matter with the implanted embryos. They were both implanted with a number of attempts, and Katy said they had ultrasound evidence most of those took, and were potentially viable. Or at least were viable a week ago at the last ultraosund.
Once they were comfy, there was that pile of paperwork. There is entirely too much paperwork here for anything connected to Bill and Dave’s side of things. Had to sign for receiving the little shits, the condition they were in when they got here…To be fair, I think half of these forms started being a thing over the extent of “failed” litters handed over to the guys (thanks ever so for the precedent, George). Order in more kibble, more litter, more volcanic dust for the pack, more feeder fluffies from that guy who rounds up ferals, the supplemented organ mince for the pack. Fluffy safe cleaning supplies, insta-heal gel, more damn balls. One of these weeks I’ll find a brand they don’t pop inside a week. Staying in Dave’s allotted budget for this side of things is doable, but damn it takes work.
I’d actually settled into a nice rhythm, Rook asleep with his head on my foot and being his best, quiet self- when Randy finally turned up. Which meant I had to pause halfway through a stack of order forms to outline his tasks for the day and hover long enough to make sure he didn’t just vanish into the breakroom. Less of a thing since the breakroom TV went bust, but he does still have a smartphone. Luckily, I can supervise with a new cup of coffee in hand. Caffeine is my friend. Set him cleaning the kennel rooms, reminded him to just leave the inside of their crates as they are, and shooed Rook back into the Playroom with the others.
Get back to office, started back on work- decided to turn on the cameras on my second monitor. Went to remind Randy the playroom TVs are for FluffTv, not for leaching my Netflix account, and sent him to go deep clean the feeder kennels instead. The joy of hiring via nepotism, is the idiot teenagers who know how far they’d have to fuck up to get fired. But I can cut his hours until he can’t afford gas for his Honda if he doesn’t at least pretend to do his job.
There was quiet until lunch, thank the Aesir. And then the chaos really started. Lime green unicorn, white mane, lower left cage. Margarita. Has been whining about wanting her sissy since I pulled her from the herd. Went into labor with less screaming than Cotton Candy, but more shrieking for her family.
Five foals, one orange still born, two green fillys, another orange colt and the poor sap who is still complicating my day. A dark brown alicorn. Guess how much of a fit she had about that. (No, I didn’t pillow her, George! Not. An. Abuser. Shut up, Dave.) And then the bitch demanded “sketti fo’ make miwkies fo’ bestest babbehs?” She got kibble and a note on her file that she produced at least one Alicorn. Only reason her tail isn’t out in the feeder herd right now. And I got a newborn to look after. Joy of joys(/s)
Good practice if anything goes wrong with the surrogates or later demonfluff litters,at least, and I stocked up on formula when Pepper had her seven. Which is becoming a chore in and of itself.
She’s trying, bless her stupid heart. No bestest babbeh, no bad babbeh, just her trying to keep the entire huge litter fed and already struggling with making enough milk. I’ve now upgraded her to much higher grade, breeder specialty kibble, and I’m keeping her bowl full. She’s just… exhausted, and they’re chirping almost constantly for more. It still took her until dinner to be start crying about “Tu man’ babbehs, mummah twyin’ babbehs, nee’ hewp.” Starved foals do me no good, so I helped out by formula feeding enough of them that all 7 had full bellies and would sleep long enough for her to get some rest. Already had the bottles mixed and ready to warm for Mister worth at least 100 bucks. Who needed near hourly feeding. All night.
At least between Jake and Randy, the Saturday cleaning chores were eventually muddled through, even if some of it took more supervision than I’m happy about. I did have to add more coffee to the damn order list. (Dave, I want an espresso machine. My birthday is coming up. I’m looking at potentially more long hours when more litters arrive. And when the breeding programs hit full swing here- Loki help you if I’m not caffeinated.)
I managed to get all the damn paperwork done between feedings, but fuck. Sun’s coming up, and I’m so damn done. Made sure all the brats had food and water, gonna try to crash for long enough to beat back the headache.
First Chapter-The Pack- because what we need is more fluffies bred to eat other fluffies. (1) by :Shadowfox
Previous Chapter-The Pack- (13)- Week 9 aftermath log (Shadowfox)
Next Chapter-The Pack (15) week 10 log, Monday. (Shadowfox)