Fluffy finds babies

1/3
>Sunny summer day.
>Grilling outside as fluffy pony plays in the yard.
>Chasing grasshoppers is her favorite game.
>Wait a minute...where did she go?
>She was just here a minute ago.
>Wander around the yard calling her name.
>She knows better than to leave the yard.
>Look over fence into neighbor's yard.
>He has a fluffy too...a stallion.
>No worries, you paid to have your mare fixed.
>Fucking expensive and traumatic for fluffy.
>Fluffy ponies can not be given anesthesia.
>Worthwhile investment though...you don't want foals.
>Fluffy is not in your neighbor's yard anyway.
>Check the alley on the other side of your house.
>"Daddee! Wook! Fwuffy haf babbes!"
>She's carrying two foals on her back.
"Where the hell did you get those?"
>"Fwuffy find! Babees nu haf mummy. Fwuffy mummy now!"
>You pick one up.
>It trembles violently, pee runs down its leg.
>Too terrified to squeak or fight.
>It's skinny, famished.
"You know you can't keep these. They're too small...they need their mother."
>"Fwuffy mummy!"
"I said no."

2/3
>Take the other foal off her back.
>This one cries and thrashes around a bit.
>Never been handled by a human before.
>"Gif babees back, daddee! Fwuffy wan' babees!"
>Your fluffy pony cries and paws at your legs.
>Holding the foals in one hand you grab your mare in the other.
>Put her inside...make sure the door is latched tight.
>Fluffy bawls and scratches at the door.
>"Nuuu! Fwuffy wan' babees! Pwease nu take babees, daddee!"
>She must have gotten them from somewhere close.
>You don't have to walk far.
>The smell leads you to it.
>A dead mare behind a garbage can.
>She choked on a plastic bag.
>Both foals cry out loud when they see her.
>Yeah...it's the mother alright.
>The hungry foals must have wandered off looking for food.
>Put the foals down.
>Despite their previous fear of you they squeal and try to cling to your hand.
>Pick up the dead fluffy by its tail.
>Fuckin' gross...it's full of maggots.
>Toss it in the trash can.
>Pick the foals back up.
>They chirp happily and hug your fingers.
>You do NOT want to keep foals.
>Nearest shelter is 50 miles away.
>It's an over-crowed death camp for fluffies.
>You can't just leave them to die of starvation.
>You really don't have a choice.

3/3
>Flip open pocket knife.
>Cut off first foal's head.
>It squeals and thrashes for a second, but death is quick.
>The second foal is not so easy.
>It saw what you did to its sibling.
>Fluffy foal squirms out of your grip and hits the ground.
>It tries to scamper away but bones are broken.
>Squeaking and crying in terror, it tries to drag itself along.
"Come on, this'll be over quick and no more pain."
>Grab it up again.
>Saw the head off...you wish your knife was sharper.
>Lay them in the trash with their mother.

>Open your door.
>Fluffy is waiting for you.
>Sitting up on her rump, tears in her face fluff.
>"Daddee haf babees?"
>Try to make this sound positive.
"I found their mother...they're all together."
>Give her a scratch behind the ears.
>Bad move.
>Fluffy smells the blood on your fingers.
>She scampers away and hides under the couch.
>You have a feeling she knows what happened.
>She's just too scared to say it out loud.
>Just as well.
>Fluffy learned a valuable lesson about collecting stray babies today.