Part 4: Rough Patch
You scrambled as quickly as you could to the basket of oil rags you keep near the deck for your truck. Doppler had his back arched up and his hair on end growling at the smarty, whom you had named Croesis. Croesis was puffing his cheeks as large as he could and stood up on his hind legs with his hooves facing Doppler. You took a rag and wiped Doppler’s tail of the feces, he may not be happy there is some oil on his tail but I bet he prefers it over fluffy shit. Doppler relaxed a little but was still visibly on edge. You went behind Croesis and picked him up by the mane.
“WET SMAWTY GUUUUU!”
This got the attention of Helen, who you thought was his mother.
“Wet bestest babbeh gu! Bad upsies!”, Helen was not happy with the situation. Naturally since the previous smarty had decided that Croesis was his favorite that applied to Helen.
“No! He’s a bad fluffy!”, you needed to solidify the bad/good fluffy dynamic in their minds. Good fluffies get pets and skettis. Bad fluffies… well I’m sure you can guess.
Helen’s eyes got wide as I said “Bad fluffy”, it looks like even the small amount of conditioning I’d done had proven to be effective.
“We do not like bad fluffies do we?”
“Nuuuu, daddeh. Bad fwuffies bad fo’ hewd.”, they droned in unison. With these things you have to be as straightforward and to the point as possible.
“Huuuuu, no huwt babbeh… huuuu” Helen was still very resistant, not surprised. The fact that she still called this colt, who was pretty well developed, a baby was indicative of strong attachment.
“I’m sorry Helen.”
You crouched next to Doppler, still squared off with Croesis. You had an idea of how to not only condition the fluffies, but Doppler simultaneously. You went over to the shed to get some of the catnip you keep around. The stuff grows in sparse patches in the surrounding area and when you go out for walks you like to collect as much as you can. You may have helped create the fluffy, but you were a cat person at heart. Doppler knew what the plastic bag in the shed meant and his mood reversed slightly, now focused on you and the bag of cat-drugs you carried. Croesis did not take this well. He began to sling childish insults at the now distracted feline. Doppler was unphased, and thankfully Croesis had emptied his bowels presumably completely now. Croesis realized his ranged weaponry was depleted and decided to start to flail his hooves in the direction of Doppler, walking forward on his hind legs. Some kind of feeble attempt to create a moving wall of attack. It turns out his strategy lost hard to a boot in the chest. You didn’t kick him very hard, enough to get distance.
“SCREEEEEEEEEE!!! NU HuWT SMAWTYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Doppler was obviously annoyed but still dead set on the catnip. You opened the bag, reached down to grab a good amount of catnip and flung it onto Croesis. He was still caught up in his agony to realize the ripped up leaves falling on him. Doppler pounced on him and began to eat up the catnip and some fluff along with it.
“STAHP! Nu take smawty fwuff! Pwetty fwuff!”
Doppler gave you a look like “Give me the word boss” and you responded with a high-pitched “go ahead!”. He didn’t understand the words but cats react positively to higher tones so you figured it would work. Sure enough he started to dig his claws into Croesis’s sides, slashing a few times before putting Croesis in a hold and proceeded to bite the fluffy’s front. Blood and fluff flew into the surrounding grass, coating it with a sick combination of light blue, yellow, and crimson red.
“SCREEEEEEE NUUUUU! NU HUWT peep SMAWTY SMAWTY BESTEST FWUFFY chirp NU HUWT BESTEST peep FWUFFEEEEEEEE!”
Helen had finally had her resolve broken and cried out to her “bestest babbeh”.
“Nuuuuuuuuuu! Nu huwt best babbeh! Nu gib foreba sweepies tu bestest babbeh! EEEEEEEEEE!!!
You stood there silently as Doppler moved in on Croesis’s throat. It would appear that Doppler had listened to enough cries and screams from the now doomed colt who at this point was already dying and had regressed into mostly peeps and chirps.
Croesis’s final words were:
“chirp chirp wowstest huwties peep huuuuu chiiiirp nu wan peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
Truly poetic.
His trachea was promptly ripped out of the courtesy of my cat companion. Helen was very shook up but I was still proud that she didn’t try to intervene. You plucked the now corpse of Croesis from off the ground and threw it deep into the woods. You figured the coyotes, assuming there were still some around, would love it and if the owls saw something they liked that’s great too. Doppler was sprawled out on the bloody grass just taking it all in. You picked him up and massaged his head while you held him. It was important for Doppler to associate cat-nip and your voice with not just the good feeling of cat-nip, but also your affection. You turned to face the now cowering and feces-covered herd of fluffies.
“Okay, Daddy doesn’t like to hurt fluffies but that is what bad fluffies deserve. Helen, I’m sorry you had to witness the loss of a son, but I’m happy you didn’t try to stop Daddy.”
“Huuuuuuu… tank ou daddeh. Hewen stiww miss bestest babbeh huuuhuuu…”, you would have to address that later.
“Well guys it’s time for dinner and tonight you’re all getting spaghetti!”
“SKETTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIES!!!”
The crowd in front of you erupted into screams of joy.
“This will be a once a week treat okay, today is Wednesday, so until next Wednesday you will be getting the bulk kibble okay? That’s every 2 and 2 and 3 days.”
Cyrus understood what you meant by a week as you noticed his head nodding at the mention. The rest of the fluffies nodded when you explained it in a way they could understand.
Dinner was going to be strange for them, from what you had seen the old smarty had kept a strict hierarchy so breaking that into something more equitable would present a challenge.
A challenge you would graciously accept.