We Know Not What We Do
Part 7
It was 9am when Steve made it to the emergency vet. He was given fluffy antibiotics and pain killers, penicillin and baby aspirin, not that he would’ve known the difference. Prince laid unconscious on the bottom of the cardboard box, the same box that was his home not long ago. Steve thought it was the painkiller used for the surgery that had kept Prince asleep. It was succumbing to the pain of fully feeling his leg being amputated at the shoulder. Not that Prince would’ve been able to articulate what happened.
Steve unfolded the box to see the swollen and raw flesh sewn together where his leg used to be. The pink and red flesh stark against the dark purple fluff. With a finger he attempted comforting pets down Prince’s back. Prince twitched, eliciting chirps of distress. On the ride home, both fluffy and man were quiet. The bumps and turns keeping Prince awake. Steve feeling guilty as what he has done, and Prince to afraid to talk.
Steve put the box on the floor next to Prince’s bed. As he reached in to grab the foal, Prince started chirping and scurried into the corner. It didn’t help. Steve tried as gently as he could to lift up the squirming fluffy, almost dropping him onto the floor in the process. He left him on top of the pillow bed. He didn’t feel right, the lack of sleep and the mess from last night made him a bit frazzled. “I’m… I’m sorry buddy.” He reached out to try to pet Prince, but Mocha came running up.
“NU HUWT BWUDDAH!” She bravely stood between Steve and Prince.
He frowned, “I’m not gonna hurt him. It was an accident.” It wasn’t, but he didn’t think he could explain it them. He stood and grabbed the food bowls and water, figuring he should just feed them and then go take a nap. No point in making today any more stressful.
Mocha wanted to be a good fluffy, she needed to be a good fluffy. And right now, being a good fluffy meant protecting Prince from daddeh. She watched him leave and come back, still standing between Prince and him. Not that she could’ve done anything, but she didn’t know that. She was being brave! She watched as daddeh brought in more food and water, but he closed the door behind him as he left, locking them in the room.
“Pwince nee’ huggies?” She meekly asked and tried to give him as big of a hug as she could, only to hear him start chirping in pain. She didn’t understand until she saw where his leg used to be. “Whewe am weggie? Pwince, whewe weggie gu?”
“Bad fwuffies nu ge’ weggies. Bad fwuffy hab weggie gu away.”
Mocha spent the rest of the day taking care of Prince as best as she could. She couldn’t hug him, but she could help feed him. She took a bit of kibble, got it wet, and brought it to him. She even helped him to the litter box as best as she could. He would take a shaky step only to tumble face first into the carpet, his raw stump hitting the floor, the carpet masking the chirping. Together they managed, but after that two foot trek to the box, he laid in the cleanest spot of litter, unable to muster enough strength to return to the pillow.
Mocha and Prince didn’t talk. And she was very much acting like the little sister she was. She’d flop down in front of him. Push a block near him, she was big enough now to climb on top. Why, she even climbed on top of the pillow bed to roll down. Nothing helped, Prince just laid in the litter with the saddest look on his face. She was bored and wanted to play. Of course, she still wanted to make Prince feel better, but huggies were out of the question.
With a sigh she flopped over and started the tedious task of taking bits of kibble to the water bowl, dunking them in, and eating once they were soft. “Pwince, Mocha makin’ gud poopies.” She loudly proclaimed from the opposite corner of the litter box. He didn’t say a word, she only knew he heard by his ears twitching.
The uncomfortable box and hard pieces of clay litter made for a terrible bed. Prince took a deep breath and stood up. Before he even made it on three hooves, Mocha was next to him. She helped him again back to the bed, another agonizing two feet away. He looked up to the top, winded and in pain, the daunting task of climbing up the pillow seemed too much.
“Chirp!” Out of surprise he chirped, looking back to see Mocha headbutting his rump.
“Mocha wiww push!” She looked so proud of her idea. It actually helped, she pushed on his hind quarters as he pushed with his three legs. Onto his back he tumbled to the center of the pillow, Mocha landing next to him. She didn’t try to hug him, but she curled up next to him. Gently Prince bopped her on the head and curled up into his sister’s warmth.
At some point Prince awoke, it some during the dark time. The not sun glowed from the wall, just enough light to keep fluffies calm at night. He felt the rumbling inside. It wasn’t a hungry rumble. Awkwardly he pulled himself from Mocha and scrambled as fast as his three tiny hooves could carry him. “Nu poopies… pwease nu…” He whined as he stumbled again, face planting into the carpet.
“Nu wan be bad babbeh!” He was so close, he made it half way to the litter box. Unfortunately, his body couldn’t hold out any longer. For some time he laid there and cried, he was now a poopie babbeh. A dumb, unloved, three legged, no huggies giving, bad baby fluffy. His crying gave way to exhaustion, Prince fell back to sleep suckling on his hoof.