One Lucky Pet, Part 3

>”Open up for me, girl”
>You open your mouth wide for the vet, who inspects the inside carefully
>”That’s it…good girl, now”
>He’s a little old and rugged looking, but seems friendly enough, and hasn’t done anything too bad
>You think his name was Dr Collins
>You came here expecting the worse. Fingers up the butt, thermometers up the butt…butt stuff, basically
>Nothing that bad. Probably because you are clearly healthy, no matter what weird faceless women tell your master
>Stephanie is hovering around behind him. She has a chair but she can’t stay seated
>You can’t see her with the vet in front of you, but you can imagine her pacing
>After a while the inspection stops and you close your mouth again
>”Everything good?” asks Steph
>”Honestly? She seems perfectly healthy.” Replied the vet, removing his gloves. “No physical abnormalities, no temper issues, nothing. Most ponies get tense at the best of times when they get taken to see me.”
>”Oh she’s such a good girl.” Says Steph dreamily.
>”You say she was unwell?”
>“Well, I think so. Actually it was on someone else’s recommendation.”
>“A friend?”
>“No. Just a stranger who saw her.”
>The vet picks you up in his arms and lays you down on the floor. You trot over to Steph and sit by her side.
>Her hand finds your ears and begins to scratch them reassuringly.
>”Mrs  Mahe, I can see that you’re a loving pet owner.” Says the vet, sitting down carefully. “But if you don’t mind me saying bring her in just because of what strangers say to you on the street, you’ll be in here as often as I am.”
>Steph bristles a little
>”I can’t take any risks with her.” she says, a little hotly.
>”I didn’t mean any offense” says Dr Collins. “It’s your call in the end. Just offering some professional advice.”
>”Ok. Sorry, I just… I’d never forgive myself if anything… “
>“As I said, it’s your call.”
>You look up at the vet, and this catches his eye
>You stare at each other for a bit. You cock your head. He cocks his.
>”She seems very intelligent” he says, slowly.
>Before you can do anything you are picked up by Steph, who rubs your fur and rubs her face against yours
>”I know, right? Say thank you, Lucky!” she says
>You keep looking at the vet, levelly
>And slowly…
>You do nothing

>When you get back to the house, Steph gets changed into her work clothes
>It’s about 12 in the afternoon, guess she had some leeway to come in later or something for her mystery job
>”Sorry girl, Mommy’s got to go. Bye bye, now, be good!”
>She Eskimo kisses you before leaving
>You’re alone for what feels like the first time in ages
>The silence of the house weighs on you. Your ears flatten against your head
>You go and lie on the couch, but you can’t even be bothered to put the TV on
>This sucks. You want Steph around. You want her love.
>You want her constant little shows of physical affection
>Her stupid baby talk
>Her apple slices
>Oh actually, come to think of it, you’re hungry
>You jump off and trot over to your bowl in the kitchen
>Steph filled it before leaving, naturally
>You munch away. Delicious vegetables raise your spirits
>Then the backdoor opens
>And in walks the lady from last night
>Just like that. You pause mid chew, half of a carrot sticking out of your mouth
>What
>She crouches down and puts a fingers to her lips
>You see something in her other hand. A lockpick?
>”You can understand me, right?”
>OH SHOOOOOOOT-
>You flip out, unchewed veggies flying from your mouth as you neigh and whinny
>She grabs you
>Her fingers dig into your fur, painfully
>”I know you can hear me! You’re not like other ponies, right! Listen to me!” she hisses. “You went missing
>You stare at her, and almost instinctively you nod
>Oh no. You’ve given the game away
>You can’t make out her face still-it’s a mess of flesh blurs to your eyes
>But you can just about make out a grin
>”I knew it…”
>You feel her hands tremble
>She looks at you dead on
>”You know who I am, right?”
>You don’t…you’ve never seen this person before
>You don’t want this. You want her to go away
>You curl up into a ball and whimper
>You want Steph back. You want your master back
>You’re just a scared little pony pet
>Her hands withdraw from you, and you hope that she’s about to leave you alone
>Then you feel something on your face
>Oh, that smells…awfully…
>Sweet…
>…
>…zzz…

=====================================================================================

>Your very tired
>Everything’s blurry, and your eyes are heavy
>But slowly, your vision comes back to you
>You’re in some sort of bedroom. In fact you’re lying on a soft, blue bed right now
>The walls are covered in posters. Bands you remember. Remember? Yes, you’ve seen them…
>You hear a woman’s voice
>”Welcome home, Anon.”
>Anon? That name…
>You snap into focus
>The woman from before is leaning over you. Her face is still maddeningly blurred out
>You whiney. You want to run but you still feel out of it
>Wait, did she say “Welcome home?”
>The mystery woman turns away for a moment
>”I’ve kept it pretty much as it was. Couldn’t bear to change anything. I never liked all these posters. I always hoped you’d take them down some day…” she laughs bitterly.
>Usually talking to this lady-well not talking, but you know what you mean-gave you a buzzing anxiety
>But now it’s like an icey pit has formed in your stomach.
>You try to get up on shakey pink legs. You fail
>She turns around and sees this, before coming closer to you
>You scoot away from her, and she stops
>”Anon, you have to remember. You DO remember, right?”
>You stare at the blurry mess of her face blankly.
>She slowly moves towards you, and this time you don’t move
>Her hand makes contact with your muzzle, and she gently strokes you
>Her breathing gets funny. Oh, you think she’s crying.
>”Anon…give me a sign. Please…”
>You’re not an idiot. You can tell what’s happening here
>You try-really try-to see her face
>The blurriness recedes for a split second, like it did the last time you met, revealing the same green eyes, now wet with tears
>Then the blur is back again, like an impenetrable fog
>You turn your head away, curling up slightly on the bed.
>The woman continued to stroke your fur.
>Then stops, before suddenly getting up.
>She goes over to the desk in the corner, where a dusty laptop sits
>After rooting around the drawers, she comes back to you
>Holding pen and paper in her hands
>She lays them down by your hooves
>”Go on. Talk to me.” She says, excitedly
>You’re hesitant, even as your hoof is drawn forwards towards the pen
>Maybe the best thing would be pretending to be just another dumb pet
>Then she’d leave you alone, right?
>You spent all that time not writing anything for Steph, why start for this lady?
>Steph. Oh god she’s probably going insane with worry right now
>You whiney and nicker  as her sweet face flashes in your mind
>You end up flicking the pen away
>Your captor calmly collects the stationary and puts it on the desk
>”You’re still stressed out. It’s ok. I know how you can get.”
>”I don’t know what happened to you, Anon. I don’t know if this is some crazy drug, or scientific…thing.” She says, slowly, gesturing vaguely with her hands. “But I have my own theory.”
>”Ever since I first saw you in the park, I knew. I just knew, at the very core of my being. That’s not science, there’s no logical explanation, but I had to… I had to find you.”
>Her voice broke a little there, and she stops speaking for a moment.
>She starts to pace the room,  agitated, then stops by a small bookcase.
>You hadn’t noticed it. Books. Yes, you remember being into those. Didn’t you have a degree in something? It’s all so long ago.
>She pulls one out and shows it to you.
>”Remember this? The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.”
>You do remember it. It was a good story.
>”Poor old Gregor.” She says, opening it up. “Woke up one morning after uneasy dreams and found himself transformed into a gigantic insect.”
>She looks down at your furry form
>”You’re a lot cuter than Gregor, though.”
>She puts the book down and walks towards you
>”Maybe this was just like that. One day you just woke up like this. A cute little pony. Did you run away in shock and confusion? Run into the streets, unable to talk, to be found and kennelled like a stray?”
>You realise that this is not a rhetorical question, and that she is waiting for some sort of answer.
>You don’t know what to do. You lie there, passive and listless.
>You want to see Steph again. You can’t bear the thought of her sitting in her empty house, distraught, wondering where you were.
>You can’t bear not being hers again, not being held in those arms again.
>Anything that goes against that feels like you were betraying her
>But as you said: You’re no idiot. And the fact that her face is blurred out seems like a clue
>It’s like whatever made you this way didn’t want you to recognise her. Which means…
>Some things can’t be ignored. Some ties are unbreakable.
>The woman goes towards the door, but you get her attention and point to the pen and paper
>She practically runs to it, delivering it to your side
>You pick up the pen in your mouth, then start to write.
>It’s slow going. You’re not very good at it
>As your write it out, you look up
>The blurriness is fading . You see her face now, clear as day.
>Oh god, you were right. She was right.
>You finish writing and drop the pen from your mouth, heart hammering in your tiny body. You watch as she reads it aloud, in a hoarse whisper.
>”Hi, Mom.”