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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
Fluffball
__________________________________________________
Part 46.
Christmas!
Reggie:
On the Monday before Christmas . . .
“Happy Christmas, Father.”
“Bah.”
And that concludes our performance of A Christmas Carol, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be here all week; try the butterscotch seed cakes.
I had been commanded to report, secretary in tow, to the Sire’s office for a meeting prior to the board meeting. Once Miss Haversham and I were in the room and seated, both she and Mrs. Rodgers started taking notes as my father asked gruffly, “How fast can you get to Hawaii?”
I was surprised.
“Am I being sent away again, Father?”
“What?”
I repeated the question.
“No.”
He actually sounded irritated.
“Ah. Well, I suppose it’ll take a week, perhaps as much as ten days. Why?”
He glanced to make sure that the secretaries were busily taking things down and said, “That Bavarian buffoon you befriended out in the Pacific’s sent me a telegram.”
“The Baron von Kojote? Jolly good. What does he say?”
“His wife’s ‘Onkel Roberto’ has appointed him as his agent for flogging us his crop of wheat in the Argentine.”
I nodded.
“And he’s got a deal ready for us. He can only go as far as Hawaii, though. Something about his wife.”
I hoped that everything was all right. Heinrich was devoted to his darling Sophia, as his repeated batterings at her paws could readily attest.
Not for the first time I wondered about the Germans.
“Has he sent you the proposal, Father?”
“Yes, here.” He shied it across the desk at me and I caught it. Quite took the wind out of me.
He could have at least said “Good catch.”
“If you do as good a job with this as you did the Jackson account, I’ll be very surprised.”
I cocked an ear at that. “Thank you, Father.” I leafed through a few of the pages.
“There’s another thing.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Those imbeciles in Chicago have finally admitted that they’re in danger of having to shut down.”
“Good Lord.”
“Don’t know what’s good about it. The cretins need a bit of the stick put to them.”
“And you’re sending me to do this.”
The Sire glowered at me, and gave a deep whistling snort. “You’ve shown me that you can show your temper when you need to . . . SO SHOW IT! Now, OUT!”
Miss Haversham and I didn’t have to do a fighting retreat, thank goodness, although I played the man’s part and stood between her and the possible barrage.
***
Josslyn:
Wretched little . . .
Maybe if he and his mate get out of here I can get some sleep.
The nightmares have come back, but this time with flourishes.
It’s been the same ever since that dratted doctor gave me those pills. Only this time, she’s airborne and looking like a Zeppelin, dropping fawns on me by parachute.
Parachutes that look like nappies.
“Open the bomb-baby doors!” she cackles. “Here comes another salvo! YEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
I suppose it’s what I deserve for reading about the Reds and their parachutist experiments.
Where are my pills?
***
Willow:
Good, Reggie’s at work.
Which means?
Christmas shopping! Yay!
As soon as Apollo came back from taking my mate to work, I dragooned Lodge into coming with me as I grabbed my gift list and the checkbook.
There was a pause to make sure that the mail had been posted (mainly thank you notes addressed to the ladies who attended my baby shower) and we were off!
Lodge would do double duty, first as an extra set of paws, and second because, as Reggie’s valet, he knew all of my beloved’s sizes.
And one in particular, as we made the rounds of Bond Street and Savile Row to get the things on my list. I was careful, as the budget wasn’t bottomless. There was a good amount set aside for charities.
Considering where I was after getting out of New Haven, I’ve become very aware of the kindness of strangers.
I had managed to get everything tucked away (including several that were rather artfully hidden away in plain sight) by the time Reggie got home.
After a long and heartfelt set of kisses, I said, “I got my shopping done today.”
“Jolly good! You know something?”
“What’s that, Reggie?”
“I love you.”
The world went slightly misty and pink.
“I love you, too. When are we going up to the house?”
My beloved accepted glasses of orange juice from Lodge and gave me one. “Father said that he was leaving tomorrow, but would be back at work Monday.”
I raised a brow. “Starting Boxing Day a bit early by leaving you in charge?”
“Not for too long, darling; I’ll be closing the office on Thursday, after lunch.”
“Does he know?”
“It’s been corporate tradition. My father may yell and bluster, but there’s no doubt he looks after the workers. Bonuses were sent out last week.”
I giggled after taking a sip of my orange juice. “Old softie.”
“If there’s one soft spot there, you’ll probably have to drill and plant dynamite to find it.” My buck looked vaguely troubled for a moment. “He wants me to leave Monday, for the States and then to Hawaii.”
“Oh?”
Reggie then proceeded to tell me what was happening in Chicago, and about the Baron’s offer in Honolulu. “What worries me is this: Father wants me to lose my temper, but I might not be able to do things right.”
“You’ll do fine. I’ll be there, and we’ll get the chance to try out those new planes your father bought.”
He blinked. “But, Willow, you’re – “
“Reggie.” I had hold of his antlers again, and he gulped.
“Er, yes?”
“I told you once before – I’m pregnant, not an invalid. Of course I’m coming with you, Reggie.” I smiled at him. “Where you go, I go.”
That’s why when Lodge came in to announce dinner, he saw the two of us kissing.
***
Reggie:
Dash it all, Willow always manages to be right.
I’m going to have to figure out how she does it.
True to his word, Father stormed out of the office promptly at twelve sharp. Before the lift doors closed he bellowed at me, “And don’t ruin everything!”
Well, that was clear enough, and no mistake. With Willow by my side, though, I was confident that things would go smoothly.
That afternoon was the company Christmas party, and trays of goodies and refreshments were on offer. No alcohol, although the egg nog was a perfect vehicle for it; we still had to take care of business until Wednesday lunchtime. Having a bad case of morning head would be bad for business.
The highlight of the party was when Father Christmas arrived.
To the delight of all present, Santa was a tall buck with a huge belly, expansive white beard, and the traditional red suit with all the trimmings.
And a monocle.
Well, perhaps a buck should have been called ‘Fodder Christmas.’ Don’t you think?
Uncle Albert came up, his wife Arabella in tow, and poked the belly. “Looking a bit filled out, eh, Reggie?”
“Good Lord. How did you know it was me?”
“Family resemblance, my boy, even though you’re taller than your sire. Better be careful, or you’ll fill out like he has.”
A sobering thought, indeed.
***
Gwladys:
A wonderful family Christmas was in the offing.
Reggie and Willow had gone down to Kent early Friday morning and picked up Joss’ father George for the occasion. The leave had been granted after Reggie had given Dr. Mink a few bottles of Eiswein as a present. The doctor had been quite mellowed by the gift (the rather rare sweet dessert wine’s hard to come by in Britain).
Joss . . . slept in.
Which is perhaps a nice way of saying he was avoiding his father until it was unavoidable.
“Gwladys, my dear,” George said, giving me a kiss on the cheek as he came in.
“Happy Christmas, George. I noticed that he had a small potted plant under his arm. “And I see you brought Mr. Lavender.”
“Oh yes. He was quite keen to come along, don’t you know.” He had two suitcases with him as well, one of which I knew had part of his model train collection.
“How nice. Travis, escort Mr. Buckhorn to his rooms, please.”
“Certainly, My Lady.” George dutifully and docilely followed our butler and I hugged Willow before Reggie had a chance to help her out of her coat. “Willow! How wonderful to see you.”
“Hello, Gwladys. Merry Christmas.”
“And to you.” We exchanged kisses, and I offered my cheek to Reggie. “Do come in and warm up by the fire.”
The main hall was decorated very nicely, with ivy garlands on the mantelpiece and elsewhere. “Ivy?” Willow asked.
“Josslyn’s allergic to holly.”
My daughter-in-law was certainly looking radiant as she oohed at the sight of the tree. It was a blue spruce, about ten feet high and simply aglow with lights and ornaments. “I’ll leave you to get our gifts under the tree,” I said, and I went upstairs to talk to the lord of the manor.
My mate was in bed, with the covers drawn up to the roots of his antlers.
“Joss?”
No answer.
I put my paws on my hips. “Josslyn Buckhorn, are you going to hide up here all day?”
He pulled the covers down far enough to glare at me through one eye. “I was asleep.”
“No, you were not.”
The glare deepened. “And what makes you think I wasn’t asleep?”
“Simple. You snore when you’re asleep.”
“I. Do. NOT. Snore, woman! You snore.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Eh?”
“But not as loudly as you do, Joss. Now, you can’t hide up here forever. Come on,” and I grabbed his paw and started to tug on his arm.
“Let go, woman!”
“Are you going to get out of bed?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to miss dinner.”
“I’ll have it sent up.”
“I won’t let Travis deliver it.”
That netted me a glare from both eyes. “Blackmail.”
I decided to appeal to his better nature (and yes, he does have one).
“Josslyn.”
No answer.
“Viscount Buckhorn.”
An appeal to his title caused him to give me a suspicious one-eyed glare. “Yes?”
I smiled. “You’re the master in your own house. Are you going to hide from your own flesh and blood?”
The covers were replaced.
After about forty-five seconds I heard him mumble, “I’ll be down for dinner.”
I leaned over and kissed the tip of his muzzle where it was poking up the sheet. “The cook’s making your favorite for the season,” I said, and left him to get up and get ready.
His favorite was a recipe he’d tried when we took a brief trip to Amalfi back in 1930, a type of vegetarian lasagna. The smells of cooking basil, garlic and crisp, thin sheets of eggplant would always guarantee he’d be at the head of the table.
<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
Fluffball__________________________________________________
Part 46.
Christmas!
Reggie:
On the Monday before Christmas . . .
“Happy Christmas, Father.”
“Bah.”
And that concludes our performance of A Christmas Carol, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be here all week; try the butterscotch seed cakes.
I had been commanded to report, secretary in tow, to the Sire’s office for a meeting prior to the board meeting. Once Miss Haversham and I were in the room and seated, both she and Mrs. Rodgers started taking notes as my father asked gruffly, “How fast can you get to Hawaii?”
I was surprised.
“Am I being sent away again, Father?”
“What?”
I repeated the question.
“No.”
He actually sounded irritated.
“Ah. Well, I suppose it’ll take a week, perhaps as much as ten days. Why?”
He glanced to make sure that the secretaries were busily taking things down and said, “That Bavarian buffoon you befriended out in the Pacific’s sent me a telegram.”
“The Baron von Kojote? Jolly good. What does he say?”
“His wife’s ‘Onkel Roberto’ has appointed him as his agent for flogging us his crop of wheat in the Argentine.”
I nodded.
“And he’s got a deal ready for us. He can only go as far as Hawaii, though. Something about his wife.”
I hoped that everything was all right. Heinrich was devoted to his darling Sophia, as his repeated batterings at her paws could readily attest.
Not for the first time I wondered about the Germans.
“Has he sent you the proposal, Father?”
“Yes, here.” He shied it across the desk at me and I caught it. Quite took the wind out of me.
He could have at least said “Good catch.”
“If you do as good a job with this as you did the Jackson account, I’ll be very surprised.”
I cocked an ear at that. “Thank you, Father.” I leafed through a few of the pages.
“There’s another thing.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Those imbeciles in Chicago have finally admitted that they’re in danger of having to shut down.”
“Good Lord.”
“Don’t know what’s good about it. The cretins need a bit of the stick put to them.”
“And you’re sending me to do this.”
The Sire glowered at me, and gave a deep whistling snort. “You’ve shown me that you can show your temper when you need to . . . SO SHOW IT! Now, OUT!”
Miss Haversham and I didn’t have to do a fighting retreat, thank goodness, although I played the man’s part and stood between her and the possible barrage.
***
Josslyn:
Wretched little . . .
Maybe if he and his mate get out of here I can get some sleep.
The nightmares have come back, but this time with flourishes.
It’s been the same ever since that dratted doctor gave me those pills. Only this time, she’s airborne and looking like a Zeppelin, dropping fawns on me by parachute.
Parachutes that look like nappies.
“Open the bomb-baby doors!” she cackles. “Here comes another salvo! YEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
I suppose it’s what I deserve for reading about the Reds and their parachutist experiments.
Where are my pills?
***
Willow:
Good, Reggie’s at work.
Which means?
Christmas shopping! Yay!
As soon as Apollo came back from taking my mate to work, I dragooned Lodge into coming with me as I grabbed my gift list and the checkbook.
There was a pause to make sure that the mail had been posted (mainly thank you notes addressed to the ladies who attended my baby shower) and we were off!
Lodge would do double duty, first as an extra set of paws, and second because, as Reggie’s valet, he knew all of my beloved’s sizes.
And one in particular, as we made the rounds of Bond Street and Savile Row to get the things on my list. I was careful, as the budget wasn’t bottomless. There was a good amount set aside for charities.
Considering where I was after getting out of New Haven, I’ve become very aware of the kindness of strangers.
I had managed to get everything tucked away (including several that were rather artfully hidden away in plain sight) by the time Reggie got home.
After a long and heartfelt set of kisses, I said, “I got my shopping done today.”
“Jolly good! You know something?”
“What’s that, Reggie?”
“I love you.”
The world went slightly misty and pink.
“I love you, too. When are we going up to the house?”
My beloved accepted glasses of orange juice from Lodge and gave me one. “Father said that he was leaving tomorrow, but would be back at work Monday.”
I raised a brow. “Starting Boxing Day a bit early by leaving you in charge?”
“Not for too long, darling; I’ll be closing the office on Thursday, after lunch.”
“Does he know?”
“It’s been corporate tradition. My father may yell and bluster, but there’s no doubt he looks after the workers. Bonuses were sent out last week.”
I giggled after taking a sip of my orange juice. “Old softie.”
“If there’s one soft spot there, you’ll probably have to drill and plant dynamite to find it.” My buck looked vaguely troubled for a moment. “He wants me to leave Monday, for the States and then to Hawaii.”
“Oh?”
Reggie then proceeded to tell me what was happening in Chicago, and about the Baron’s offer in Honolulu. “What worries me is this: Father wants me to lose my temper, but I might not be able to do things right.”
“You’ll do fine. I’ll be there, and we’ll get the chance to try out those new planes your father bought.”
He blinked. “But, Willow, you’re – “
“Reggie.” I had hold of his antlers again, and he gulped.
“Er, yes?”
“I told you once before – I’m pregnant, not an invalid. Of course I’m coming with you, Reggie.” I smiled at him. “Where you go, I go.”
That’s why when Lodge came in to announce dinner, he saw the two of us kissing.
***
Reggie:
Dash it all, Willow always manages to be right.
I’m going to have to figure out how she does it.
True to his word, Father stormed out of the office promptly at twelve sharp. Before the lift doors closed he bellowed at me, “And don’t ruin everything!”
Well, that was clear enough, and no mistake. With Willow by my side, though, I was confident that things would go smoothly.
That afternoon was the company Christmas party, and trays of goodies and refreshments were on offer. No alcohol, although the egg nog was a perfect vehicle for it; we still had to take care of business until Wednesday lunchtime. Having a bad case of morning head would be bad for business.
The highlight of the party was when Father Christmas arrived.
To the delight of all present, Santa was a tall buck with a huge belly, expansive white beard, and the traditional red suit with all the trimmings.
And a monocle.
Well, perhaps a buck should have been called ‘Fodder Christmas.’ Don’t you think?
Uncle Albert came up, his wife Arabella in tow, and poked the belly. “Looking a bit filled out, eh, Reggie?”
“Good Lord. How did you know it was me?”
“Family resemblance, my boy, even though you’re taller than your sire. Better be careful, or you’ll fill out like he has.”
A sobering thought, indeed.
***
Gwladys:
A wonderful family Christmas was in the offing.
Reggie and Willow had gone down to Kent early Friday morning and picked up Joss’ father George for the occasion. The leave had been granted after Reggie had given Dr. Mink a few bottles of Eiswein as a present. The doctor had been quite mellowed by the gift (the rather rare sweet dessert wine’s hard to come by in Britain).
Joss . . . slept in.
Which is perhaps a nice way of saying he was avoiding his father until it was unavoidable.
“Gwladys, my dear,” George said, giving me a kiss on the cheek as he came in.
“Happy Christmas, George. I noticed that he had a small potted plant under his arm. “And I see you brought Mr. Lavender.”
“Oh yes. He was quite keen to come along, don’t you know.” He had two suitcases with him as well, one of which I knew had part of his model train collection.
“How nice. Travis, escort Mr. Buckhorn to his rooms, please.”
“Certainly, My Lady.” George dutifully and docilely followed our butler and I hugged Willow before Reggie had a chance to help her out of her coat. “Willow! How wonderful to see you.”
“Hello, Gwladys. Merry Christmas.”
“And to you.” We exchanged kisses, and I offered my cheek to Reggie. “Do come in and warm up by the fire.”
The main hall was decorated very nicely, with ivy garlands on the mantelpiece and elsewhere. “Ivy?” Willow asked.
“Josslyn’s allergic to holly.”
My daughter-in-law was certainly looking radiant as she oohed at the sight of the tree. It was a blue spruce, about ten feet high and simply aglow with lights and ornaments. “I’ll leave you to get our gifts under the tree,” I said, and I went upstairs to talk to the lord of the manor.
My mate was in bed, with the covers drawn up to the roots of his antlers.
“Joss?”
No answer.
I put my paws on my hips. “Josslyn Buckhorn, are you going to hide up here all day?”
He pulled the covers down far enough to glare at me through one eye. “I was asleep.”
“No, you were not.”
The glare deepened. “And what makes you think I wasn’t asleep?”
“Simple. You snore when you’re asleep.”
“I. Do. NOT. Snore, woman! You snore.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Eh?”
“But not as loudly as you do, Joss. Now, you can’t hide up here forever. Come on,” and I grabbed his paw and started to tug on his arm.
“Let go, woman!”
“Are you going to get out of bed?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to miss dinner.”
“I’ll have it sent up.”
“I won’t let Travis deliver it.”
That netted me a glare from both eyes. “Blackmail.”
I decided to appeal to his better nature (and yes, he does have one).
“Josslyn.”
No answer.
“Viscount Buckhorn.”
An appeal to his title caused him to give me a suspicious one-eyed glare. “Yes?”
I smiled. “You’re the master in your own house. Are you going to hide from your own flesh and blood?”
The covers were replaced.
After about forty-five seconds I heard him mumble, “I’ll be down for dinner.”
I leaned over and kissed the tip of his muzzle where it was poking up the sheet. “The cook’s making your favorite for the season,” I said, and left him to get up and get ready.
His favorite was a recipe he’d tried when we took a brief trip to Amalfi back in 1930, a type of vegetarian lasagna. The smells of cooking basil, garlic and crisp, thin sheets of eggplant would always guarantee he’d be at the head of the table.
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 500 x 669px
File Size 486.1 kB
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