My babbeh from Chikahiro’s Foal Giveaway
Have a picture with the story.
Harry was let outside, his Mummah said only five minutes, it was snowing! He snorted and shook his head, jowls flopping. Dummy weather! His old Daddeh had gone forever sleepies, Mummah was old Daddeh’s littlest baby. He was a bulldog fluff, his kind had French Bulldog genes spliced in, then were carefully bred to have other feature, like stumpy tail nubs and bigger, deeper chests. He was like a fluffy barrel with extra thick legs. He wasn’t the nicest fluffy around either.
Daddeh had been very old and told him he was going to hell, but his littlest baby needed a strong toughie to protect her. Daddeh was trusting him to keep his new Mummah safe and to give her huggies and love. He wasn’t so good at that part. He was about to walk off the front porch to spray sorry poopies into neighbor Ted’s yard. Harry needed to teach him a lesson for saying meanie words to Mummah last night! There was a strange, faint sound. He looked down and saw a foal being buried by the falling snow.
“Whu da fwuff weeb a babbeh on Hawwy’s powch?” One eye squinted and the other opened wide. Then he narrowed both and glared at the hoofsies prints that were vanishing. “Peep, ch-ch-chirp!” The foal cried. Harry scowled more deeply, then smirked for a moment, he lifted up a hoofsie and…
The front door opened and Mummah ran into the snow without covering her footsies! She scooped the foal up, “Harry, were you going to give stompies to your own baby?” Mummah’s pretty, soft brown eyes were so sad. Harry stared down at his hoofsies, that was his? He couldn’t remember the last time he gave a mare special huggies. But Daddeh had wanted him to make lots of little Harrys! “Hawwy sowwy, Mummah. Nu noa dat am Hawwy’s babbeh. Whewe hew mummah?” Cassie had to be quick. “Her mummah was a meanie and didn’t want her because she doesn’t look like you.” Harry hadn’t realized he’d followed Mummah inside.
Harry stomped to his bed and gave it hoofsies. “Mummah, bwing babbeh. Hawwy gib wawmsies tu babbeh. “ Cassie smiled and rubbed his ears, “Be careful, she’s only a chirpy. I have to go get some baby supplies. Be a good boy and keep her warm, ok? I’ll be back and you’ll have a nice new bone if you’re a good daddy!” A Daddeh? Him? Harry wasn’t sure he could do that. He didn’t mind helping make the babbehs, but he wasn’t sure. He liked to make other fluffies cry. He liked to hurt them, unless they were friends. Friend fluffies live with hoomins. “Wiww Wook after babbeh fow Mummah.”
He lay in his bed, curling around the tiny, chirpy foal. He stared at her, snorting and huffing. He sniffed her fluff. She smelled kinda like him and kinda like Mummah. Then she began to cry. At first, he was a little scared. If she cried when Mummah got home, she’d give him the sorry stick for being bad, like old Daddeh had! But then some other feeling came over him. He got angry! “Whu dummeh, gib Hawwy’s babbeh saddies? Hawwy wiww gib wowstest huwties!” He bellowed. The foal only peeped in terror and cried more. Harry furrowed his brow, thinking real hard. What did his fluffy mummah do when he and brothers and sissy cried?
“Daddeh wub babbeh,
Babbeh wub Daddeh,
Babbeh gwow up big an stwong!”
He had no milkies and he didn’t like to lie, so he left that part out. His gruff voice sounded more creepy and threatening, but the foal found it soothing. She could feel the good intentions behind it. She snuggled into his dark teal fluff. Nuzzling him and looking for a nipple. She was hungry! He gave her a few licks, then rested with one leggy tucked against her.
Cassie returned to find them both sleeping. She placed the ham bone on the floor next to Harry’s bed. Then she went to put things away and get some formula made. She’d have to see if she could teach Harry to feed the foal. Thank goodness she’d convinced him the abandoned, tiny chirpy was his! Her dad would take Harry fluffy exterminating, until his age caught up with him. Harry was four years old now and had only been retired for about a year. He still attacked every feral he managed to get his hooves on. Harry was pretty well behaved though, obedient but cold. Maybe this foal could change that? She was her dad’s baby. He loved all his children, but Cassie was the only one to get the few and far between hugs, or got to sit in his lap. She had found the tiny piece in his heart that could show kindness.
Cassie hoped that Marge could do the same for Harry and bring out his tender side! The foal’s mane reminded her of Marge Simpson from that animated show. “Harry, you need to feed your baby.” She woke him up gently. He sat up, almost falling out of his bed as he tried not to sit on his runty babbeh. “Hawwy nu hab miwky pwaces, Mummah.” She was so silly! “I’ll show you how to feed her with this bottle.” Cassie soon had Harry cradling little Marge in one arm while feeding her with the other.
The young woman almost screamed when Harry walked into the living room with what looked like half a foal. She calmed down once he got to the couch and placed the foal on the edge, nosing her towards the back before climbing the fluffy steps at the other end. Marge was a little slobbery, but fine. Harry’s jowls covered a lot of the poor foal when he carried her. He didn’t seem to know foals couldn’t open their eyes until they were three weeks old. He wanted her to watch tv with him and Mummah. Cassie was gently petting both fluffies. Having a foal meant a lot of responsibilities for both of them. Could they handle it? Maybe.