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Very Fawnedly Yours
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
eocostello, 
mercmarten and 
marmelmm. 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
__________________________________________________
Part 67.
Reggie:
Mummy let me out after a few minutes.
And after securing from me a promise that I would be a good fawn, and not cause a scene.
After duly swearing, she let me out.
“Now, let’s go see my grandson.”
I offered my arm, and she grasped it as we walked down the hallway.
“Mother . . . “
“Reginald?”
“I love you.”
She smiled at me. “I love you too, Son.”
A nurse stood sentinel by the door, and she smiled as we walked into the room.
Willow was there, propped up on pillows and holding something in her arms.
Good Lord.
I’ve never seen her look so . . . so tired.
I mean, absolutely worn down to a nub.
But for all that, when she looked up and smiled at me, she seemed to glow.
“Reggie.”
She sounded hoarse, as well.
“Come over here. Come meet your son.”
Mummy gave me a little push, and I stepped over to her bedside.
Well, wafted over, on a drift of pink fog.
Willow watched me come, and moved aside a fold of the blanket.
He was wonderful.
“May I – may I hold him, Willow?”
Willow looked up at me, and seemed to clutch the little fellow tighter to her chest.
Slowly, she relaxed while I waited, and nodded.
I picked him up gently, Willow and Mummy coaching me on how to hold him properly.
My word, he was so small, to have caused such a fuss.
***
Willow:
(. . .)
(Relax, Grace. It’s only Reggie.)
(You do realize - ?)
(Of course. Dark headfur, violet eyes – he’s the spit and image of Margaret.)
(God rest her soul.)
***
Reggie:
I was so afraid of breaking him that I couldn’t give him back to Willow fast enough.
I kissed her, and she kissed me. “He’s beautiful.”
“Handsome.”
“Whatever. You’re beautiful.”
“Bah. I’m a mess, Reggie. I’m so tired.”
I shushed her and brushed her headfur, then touched my son’s (my son’s!) face. “Get some sleep, Willow. I love you.”
“I love you, Reggie.”
I straightened up and turned toward Mummy.
And then . . .
***
Gwladys:
Fortunately, Reggie had given his son back to Willow before he passed out.
Which he promptly managed to do, without breaking anything on the way down or on impact.
The nurse was used to such things, and summoned a pair of orderlies to put my son in a chair and bring him around.
Which left me to take a seat by Willow and hold my grandson. I’ve had experience in holding fawns, of course, so my daughter-in-law didn’t hesitate in letting me hold him.
“He’s a beautiful little buck, Willow. Such fine dark headfur.”
“And his eyes.”
“Oh yes. He’ll break hearts when he grows up.” I laughed, rocking him a bit, very gently. “You and Reggie will have to get baseball bats.”
“For what?”
“Driving off the hordes of does, silly.”
Willow giggled wearily, and I gave him back to her. I kissed her forehead. “Where are you going, Gwladys?”
“I have to go home, dear. I have my own baby to look after, now that he’s been found.” I grinned. “I’ll drive the Bentley back. Reggie can explain to the A.A. why your car’s been hotwired.” I leaned in close and kissed her again, on the cheek. “Love you, Agent Fawnsworthy.”
“Love you, Agent Ritterherz,” she whispered.
***
Josslyn:
Ah-choo!
“Well, you’re awake.”
My wife is sitting by the bed, reading one of those dreadful sporting papers she gets.
Well, I suppose she needs to, since she owns the Sillies, or Phillies or whatever they’re called.
“You’ve been asleep the entire day. The doctor just left.”
“Doctor?”
“Of course. You had all of us concerned.”
“Concerned? Bah.”
“Well, we were.”
“Don’t even try to pretend you take any notice of me.” I pull the sheets up over my head. “Leaving me in the rain by the side of the road, like so much rubbish.”
She tries to pull the sheet back.
I hang on.
“Josslyn, you’re not making sense.”
“Blast it, woman! Leave me alone!”
We start a tug of war for the sheets.
“I. Will. NOT!” she shouts, managing to rip the sheets out of my paws.
She ends up sitting on me, and not side-saddle either, holding me down by my rack.
“Now, you listen to me, Viscount Buckhorn!”
I catch the look in her eyes.
Well.
No harm in listening.
“You took some pills –“
“Tranquilizers.”
“Tranquilizers? So, THAT’S why you’ve been acting strangely lately. Anyway, you washed the pills down with Scotch – “
“I had to wash them down with something, woman.”
“Good Lord, Joss! You might have killed yourself!”
“As if that blot of a son of ours would care – “
Ow! That stung, and I raise a paw to my face.
She . . . she SLAPPED me!?
“Listen, you silly son of a buck.”
I didn’t know she could hiss like that.
“Our son cares about you more than you know – and a LOT more than you’ll admit. Now, you might have killed yourself, and I’m too young to be a widow.” She smiles down at me. “And I look absolutely wretched in black.”
***
Gwladys:
It’s the truth. Black’s not my color.
He looks up at me, so contrite.
I swear his eyes are starting to get moist.
So I lean in closer, and kiss him. He gives a little start, then leans up into the kiss.
What?
I look down.
He looks down.
We look at each other.
And then . . .
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
eocostello, 
mercmarten and 
marmelmm. 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__________________________________________________
Part 67.
Reggie:
Mummy let me out after a few minutes.
And after securing from me a promise that I would be a good fawn, and not cause a scene.
After duly swearing, she let me out.
“Now, let’s go see my grandson.”
I offered my arm, and she grasped it as we walked down the hallway.
“Mother . . . “
“Reginald?”
“I love you.”
She smiled at me. “I love you too, Son.”
A nurse stood sentinel by the door, and she smiled as we walked into the room.
Willow was there, propped up on pillows and holding something in her arms.
Good Lord.
I’ve never seen her look so . . . so tired.
I mean, absolutely worn down to a nub.
But for all that, when she looked up and smiled at me, she seemed to glow.
“Reggie.”
She sounded hoarse, as well.
“Come over here. Come meet your son.”
Mummy gave me a little push, and I stepped over to her bedside.
Well, wafted over, on a drift of pink fog.
Willow watched me come, and moved aside a fold of the blanket.
He was wonderful.
“May I – may I hold him, Willow?”
Willow looked up at me, and seemed to clutch the little fellow tighter to her chest.
Slowly, she relaxed while I waited, and nodded.
I picked him up gently, Willow and Mummy coaching me on how to hold him properly.
My word, he was so small, to have caused such a fuss.
***
Willow:
(. . .)
(Relax, Grace. It’s only Reggie.)
(You do realize - ?)
(Of course. Dark headfur, violet eyes – he’s the spit and image of Margaret.)
(God rest her soul.)
***
Reggie:
I was so afraid of breaking him that I couldn’t give him back to Willow fast enough.
I kissed her, and she kissed me. “He’s beautiful.”
“Handsome.”
“Whatever. You’re beautiful.”
“Bah. I’m a mess, Reggie. I’m so tired.”
I shushed her and brushed her headfur, then touched my son’s (my son’s!) face. “Get some sleep, Willow. I love you.”
“I love you, Reggie.”
I straightened up and turned toward Mummy.
And then . . .
***
Gwladys:
Fortunately, Reggie had given his son back to Willow before he passed out.
Which he promptly managed to do, without breaking anything on the way down or on impact.
The nurse was used to such things, and summoned a pair of orderlies to put my son in a chair and bring him around.
Which left me to take a seat by Willow and hold my grandson. I’ve had experience in holding fawns, of course, so my daughter-in-law didn’t hesitate in letting me hold him.
“He’s a beautiful little buck, Willow. Such fine dark headfur.”
“And his eyes.”
“Oh yes. He’ll break hearts when he grows up.” I laughed, rocking him a bit, very gently. “You and Reggie will have to get baseball bats.”
“For what?”
“Driving off the hordes of does, silly.”
Willow giggled wearily, and I gave him back to her. I kissed her forehead. “Where are you going, Gwladys?”
“I have to go home, dear. I have my own baby to look after, now that he’s been found.” I grinned. “I’ll drive the Bentley back. Reggie can explain to the A.A. why your car’s been hotwired.” I leaned in close and kissed her again, on the cheek. “Love you, Agent Fawnsworthy.”
“Love you, Agent Ritterherz,” she whispered.
***
Josslyn:
Ah-choo!
“Well, you’re awake.”
My wife is sitting by the bed, reading one of those dreadful sporting papers she gets.
Well, I suppose she needs to, since she owns the Sillies, or Phillies or whatever they’re called.
“You’ve been asleep the entire day. The doctor just left.”
“Doctor?”
“Of course. You had all of us concerned.”
“Concerned? Bah.”
“Well, we were.”
“Don’t even try to pretend you take any notice of me.” I pull the sheets up over my head. “Leaving me in the rain by the side of the road, like so much rubbish.”
She tries to pull the sheet back.
I hang on.
“Josslyn, you’re not making sense.”
“Blast it, woman! Leave me alone!”
We start a tug of war for the sheets.
“I. Will. NOT!” she shouts, managing to rip the sheets out of my paws.
She ends up sitting on me, and not side-saddle either, holding me down by my rack.
“Now, you listen to me, Viscount Buckhorn!”
I catch the look in her eyes.
Well.
No harm in listening.
“You took some pills –“
“Tranquilizers.”
“Tranquilizers? So, THAT’S why you’ve been acting strangely lately. Anyway, you washed the pills down with Scotch – “
“I had to wash them down with something, woman.”
“Good Lord, Joss! You might have killed yourself!”
“As if that blot of a son of ours would care – “
Ow! That stung, and I raise a paw to my face.
She . . . she SLAPPED me!?
“Listen, you silly son of a buck.”
I didn’t know she could hiss like that.
“Our son cares about you more than you know – and a LOT more than you’ll admit. Now, you might have killed yourself, and I’m too young to be a widow.” She smiles down at me. “And I look absolutely wretched in black.”
***
Gwladys:
It’s the truth. Black’s not my color.
He looks up at me, so contrite.
I swear his eyes are starting to get moist.
So I lean in closer, and kiss him. He gives a little start, then leans up into the kiss.
What?
I look down.
He looks down.
We look at each other.
And then . . .
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 932 x 1280px
File Size 257.5 kB
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