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Very Fawnedly Yours
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
EOCostello, 
MercMarten and 
Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)
The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).
Art by
turnbolt
(Special appearance of Lady Pamela Fenwick courtesy of
rjbartrop
__________________________________________________
Part 40.
Reggie:
That following weekend, Willow and I went down to Lincoln Park.
Gumpert’s driving was actually fairly relaxing after the frenetic, hell-for-leather habits Nosey had. At least we didn’t have to strap ourselves down.
As it was, the Crossley drove like it was on rails, very smooth and worry-free. A real tribute to Nosey’s care, if not his actual driving.
When we were getting out of the car the front door to the home opened and out came a pair of furs. Hot on their heels was a short fox femme.
I recognized her instantly as Lady Pamela Fenwick, head of Fenwick Foods, and although I recognized her I didn’t offer her the floor.
She wasted no time in claiming it anyway.
“Buckhorn! What are you doing here, you drunken layabout?”
“I’m neither now, thank you. Have you met my wife? Willow, this is – “
“Oh, we’ve met. Hi, Lady Pam.”
“Willow? Willow! How pleasant to see you!” I stood aside as the two femmes hugged. “I haven’t seen you since – when was it? ’36?” She eyed me. “Taken up with him, have you?”
“We got married,” and my soul stirred as Willow showed off her ring, which Lady Pamela studied with due compliments.
She turned away from my wife and gave me an ocular stiletto. “So, made her an honest woman, did you?”
“Er – “
“You know, I’ve been thinking of that boat race. I can’t prove it, but I’m sure you were up to something!”
I think that marks the first time someone ever accused me of being smart. I supposed that I should be flattered that she would think me capable of sharp practices, when in truth it was Po’na who was the sharp one.
Before I could disclaim credit she poked me in the chest and said, “You're smarter than you look, Buckhorn. You'd have to be, come to think of it. Otherwise you'd die without someone to remind you to breathe.”
Little did she know.
I refrained from telling her how my head got clearer after the alcoholic haze was lifted. Now, you'd think her keen vulpine senses would have noticed the lack of glass in paw. Or the lack of glass in expression, at that.
I contented myself with saying, “You're more cunning than the results of your plans would indicate, Lady Pamela. You'd have to be, come to think of it."
That caused some steam to leak from her ears. She’s supposed to be extremely quick on the uptake.
Willow put in, “He’s gotten better, Lady Pam.”
The Vituperative Vixen snorted. “How? That's bloody impossible. How does a buck get smarter? I mean, it's been years since he was desecrating some grove of academe."
That made my flag twitch a bit. I mean, I’ve never claimed to be a mental giant.
“It’s all right, Willow dear, I don’t blame you for him. I hope your doe-fawn is healthy and that you’re happy.”
“Thank you, but what if it’s a buck-fawn?”
Pamela jerks a thumb at me. “Him? He doesn’t have it in him.”
“Now see here!” I said.
“What?”
"Er, well, I say. I'm not the one who has it in him . . . rather think it's Willow, don't y'know."
Willow giggled at that.
Lady Pam was still clearly skeptical, which I thought rather insulting of her. I mean, no buck likes having himself run down in front of his wife, and by another woman at that.
“Then how about a wager, Lady Pam?”
“You already have ten thousand of my money, Buckhorn.”
I smiled. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d already given that away. Po’na’s relations appreciated it, too. “Then we won’t wager money.”
“Very well. State your wager.”
“If Willow has a doe-fawn, I shall eat – in front of you – a slice of . . . steak and kidney pie.”
Willow looked shocked.
Lady Pam looked amused. “And in the unlikely event it’s a buck-fawn?”
“You eat a slice of acorn-broccoli quiche.” I stuck out a paw. “Deal?”
She looked a bit ill at the thought of eating a herbivore dish, but if she declined it’d be a wound to her pride. Pam drew herself up and took my paw in a firm grip.
“You’re on.”
I smiled, and she snapped her brush at me as she flounced off to her waiting car.
Willow looked a bit worried. “Reggie.”
“Yes, love?”
“Really? Steak and kidney pie?”
“First thing that popped into my bean, Willow. Always hated the smell of it. I’ll say I’m not looking forward to it, but a bet is a bet.”
“And if you lose - ?”
“Then I hold my nose, think of England, and shovel it in.”
My wife rolled her eyes at me. “I’ll make sure Lodge has enough bicarbonate of soda ready.”
“Make sure he mixes it up in an Egyptian hat.”
“Hunh?”
“Of course. As the adverts say – ‘Listen to it fez!’”
Grandsire was hale and hearty, as per, and we sat on the floor and played with his trains while Willow had a chat with Dr. Mink. You see, we had gotten it into our heads that it might be nice to have the whole family at the house for Christmas dinner.
Dr. Mink thought this a capital idea, and Grandfather thought it would be nice to see what improvements his son had made to the place.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten married yet,” Willow remarked as we drove back up to London. “Lady Pam, I mean. I mean, she's an extremely well-dressed, extremely intelligent, extremely wealthy and still young vixen.”
"Also extremely loud."
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
EOCostello, 
MercMarten and 
Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).
Art by
turnbolt(Special appearance of Lady Pamela Fenwick courtesy of
rjbartrop__________________________________________________
Part 40.
Reggie:
That following weekend, Willow and I went down to Lincoln Park.
Gumpert’s driving was actually fairly relaxing after the frenetic, hell-for-leather habits Nosey had. At least we didn’t have to strap ourselves down.
As it was, the Crossley drove like it was on rails, very smooth and worry-free. A real tribute to Nosey’s care, if not his actual driving.
When we were getting out of the car the front door to the home opened and out came a pair of furs. Hot on their heels was a short fox femme.
I recognized her instantly as Lady Pamela Fenwick, head of Fenwick Foods, and although I recognized her I didn’t offer her the floor.
She wasted no time in claiming it anyway.
“Buckhorn! What are you doing here, you drunken layabout?”
“I’m neither now, thank you. Have you met my wife? Willow, this is – “
“Oh, we’ve met. Hi, Lady Pam.”
“Willow? Willow! How pleasant to see you!” I stood aside as the two femmes hugged. “I haven’t seen you since – when was it? ’36?” She eyed me. “Taken up with him, have you?”
“We got married,” and my soul stirred as Willow showed off her ring, which Lady Pamela studied with due compliments.
She turned away from my wife and gave me an ocular stiletto. “So, made her an honest woman, did you?”
“Er – “
“You know, I’ve been thinking of that boat race. I can’t prove it, but I’m sure you were up to something!”
I think that marks the first time someone ever accused me of being smart. I supposed that I should be flattered that she would think me capable of sharp practices, when in truth it was Po’na who was the sharp one.
Before I could disclaim credit she poked me in the chest and said, “You're smarter than you look, Buckhorn. You'd have to be, come to think of it. Otherwise you'd die without someone to remind you to breathe.”
Little did she know.
I refrained from telling her how my head got clearer after the alcoholic haze was lifted. Now, you'd think her keen vulpine senses would have noticed the lack of glass in paw. Or the lack of glass in expression, at that.
I contented myself with saying, “You're more cunning than the results of your plans would indicate, Lady Pamela. You'd have to be, come to think of it."
That caused some steam to leak from her ears. She’s supposed to be extremely quick on the uptake.
Willow put in, “He’s gotten better, Lady Pam.”
The Vituperative Vixen snorted. “How? That's bloody impossible. How does a buck get smarter? I mean, it's been years since he was desecrating some grove of academe."
That made my flag twitch a bit. I mean, I’ve never claimed to be a mental giant.
“It’s all right, Willow dear, I don’t blame you for him. I hope your doe-fawn is healthy and that you’re happy.”
“Thank you, but what if it’s a buck-fawn?”
Pamela jerks a thumb at me. “Him? He doesn’t have it in him.”
“Now see here!” I said.
“What?”
"Er, well, I say. I'm not the one who has it in him . . . rather think it's Willow, don't y'know."
Willow giggled at that.
Lady Pam was still clearly skeptical, which I thought rather insulting of her. I mean, no buck likes having himself run down in front of his wife, and by another woman at that.
“Then how about a wager, Lady Pam?”
“You already have ten thousand of my money, Buckhorn.”
I smiled. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d already given that away. Po’na’s relations appreciated it, too. “Then we won’t wager money.”
“Very well. State your wager.”
“If Willow has a doe-fawn, I shall eat – in front of you – a slice of . . . steak and kidney pie.”
Willow looked shocked.
Lady Pam looked amused. “And in the unlikely event it’s a buck-fawn?”
“You eat a slice of acorn-broccoli quiche.” I stuck out a paw. “Deal?”
She looked a bit ill at the thought of eating a herbivore dish, but if she declined it’d be a wound to her pride. Pam drew herself up and took my paw in a firm grip.
“You’re on.”
I smiled, and she snapped her brush at me as she flounced off to her waiting car.
Willow looked a bit worried. “Reggie.”
“Yes, love?”
“Really? Steak and kidney pie?”
“First thing that popped into my bean, Willow. Always hated the smell of it. I’ll say I’m not looking forward to it, but a bet is a bet.”
“And if you lose - ?”
“Then I hold my nose, think of England, and shovel it in.”
My wife rolled her eyes at me. “I’ll make sure Lodge has enough bicarbonate of soda ready.”
“Make sure he mixes it up in an Egyptian hat.”
“Hunh?”
“Of course. As the adverts say – ‘Listen to it fez!’”
Grandsire was hale and hearty, as per, and we sat on the floor and played with his trains while Willow had a chat with Dr. Mink. You see, we had gotten it into our heads that it might be nice to have the whole family at the house for Christmas dinner.
Dr. Mink thought this a capital idea, and Grandfather thought it would be nice to see what improvements his son had made to the place.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten married yet,” Willow remarked as we drove back up to London. “Lady Pam, I mean. I mean, she's an extremely well-dressed, extremely intelligent, extremely wealthy and still young vixen.”
"Also extremely loud."
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 932 x 1280px
File Size 257.5 kB
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