FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Family Matters

Saturday –

Sean drew slowly toward wakefulness at the distant, sharp warble of his alarm clock. Only, after a moment of foggy conscious contemplation he realized the alert tone was too far away to be his cell phone. Nor did it sound the same.

Regardless, it had pierced sleep and filled the veil with awareness. He was naked, in a far-too-narrow bed that was not his own, cocooned snugly in warm covers against the chill. A warm, somnolent bulk was pressed against his front without the benefit of those blankets. A heavy pall of deep, soft fur all but buried his face, the solid press of chin resting atop his head.

Of course, with her thick winter pelt Taws had no need for the warmth he had wrapped himself with. In fact she was often uncomfortably warm in buildings biased toward furless human comfort. As he was in a house biased toward the comfort of heavily furred dogs Sean was the one forced to adapt to their temperature preferences.

Which, at the moment, was cold bordering on frigid; perhaps forty five or fifty degrees. He was somewhat inured to it, however, because he also kept his own house cool for Taws' comfort.

The triple-warble alarm tone once more came through the closed bedroom door, muffled but distinct. After a few seconds it ended ina muted murmur of voices. Another call, more local and strident for all that it offered no sound to accompany it, prompted a grudging emergence from his cocoon of sheet, blanket, and comforter. Hissing a grunt at the chill and dodging Taws' sleepy attempt to haul him back into her narrow old bed he snatched up his heavy sweat pants from the floor beside the bed and stumbled into them awkwardly in the dark.

“Mnnuh, wha?" Taws growled, still well beyond half asleep.

“Bathroom," Sean whispered, giving her strong muzzle a light caress. One arm, heavily furred and dark in the wan light coming beneath the bedroom door, gestured vaguely toward the bathroom door before she once more descended toward her dreams.

Cool rather than cold, Sean ambled to the restroom, shared between the two guest rooms that had once belonged to Taws and her brother, Lazarus. After answering the demands of his bladder in the dark he wandered back into the bedroom, drew on a sweatshirt, and then slipped out onto the second floor landing that looked out over the living room. Directly across the vast, arched space was another landing that served the master bedroom over the kitchen.

A warm fire burned in the living room herth lending a ruddy glow to the large open space, increasing the temperature from chill to a passingly comfortable sixty or so degrees. A fan of brighter light spilled from the kitchen below and Sean heard the quiet mutter of her parents, already awake. The rich aroma of fresh coffee with a hint of cinnamon filled Sean's senses with the promise of warmth and much needed caffeine.

Squinting his eyes against the brightness of the light Sean made his way into the kitchen. He found both of Taws' parents there already, her mother in a light robe and her father fully dressed, ready to start his day.

The clock on the microwave revealed that it was just past the unpleasantly early hour of four thirty.

“Sean, dearie!" Faolin barked cheerily, earning a magpie glance of incredulity at being so awake and so cheerful at such an unholy hour. “Sorry, did we wake you?"

“Nuh." Sean croaked with a shake of his head and waved a hand a the scanner that was muttering about a car, a ditch, and a wrecker. “G'morning. I think."

“T'is, yep." Drake whuffered with a toothy canine smile. Waving a large mug, more a stein, held in one hand the sable hued collie wafted the heady aroma of cinnamon and chicory laced coffee at him. “Coffee?"

“Please." Sean rasped and then coughed to clear the sleep from his voice. Faolin plucke another stein sized mug down from a rack on the wall and pressed it into his hands before taking the carafe from the coffee machine to fill it. Cream and sugar were nearby on the island and he took a few minutes to avail himself of them. They enjoyed a passage of silence as he took a few wonderful sips. “Now I know where Taws gets her recipe."

Faolin chuffed softly and shook her head. “Actually she brought this recipe to us, from the city. Pretty addictive stuff."

“Quite." Sean nodded, taking a long draw and basking in the wonderful flavor and alertness inspiring rush of caffeine. “Especially at such an ungodly hour."

Drake barked a laugh, “We hicks in the back woods need to rise early." He joked warmly. “Especially after weather like this. I've got animals to tend before clearing the drive, and then off to the clinic by eight."

“Ouch. On a Saturday?" Sean winced, warmth and vigor slowly steeling through him. “Need any help?"

“Help?" Drake's ears pricked up, dark canine eyes peering at him with surprised curiosity.

Sean shrugged, “Sure? Extra hand and all."

“Can't hurt, right sure there." Drake's teeth gleamed through the Taws-like orange and cream of his long muzzle, whiskers twitching with a smile. His eyes raked Sean up and down and he waved that huge coffee mug toward him, “Though I think you might want to wear a tad bit more."

Fifteen minutes later, caffeinated and bundled into heavy wither clothes Sean followed a far less heavily clad Drake through the two feet of fresh snow. The stuff was still falling, though it was the merest dregs of the storm which had passed in the night. The wind had died leaving the land bitterly cold, still, and eerily silent but for the crunch of their boots. Sean felt positively deaf, having lived on the outskirts of New York City for so many years. Even as removed as his house was from the highways there was always the sound of traffic in the background.

Not so here.

His rental car was little more than a huge lump in the snow. Even the huge truck parked next to it was indistinguishable save for the wing mirrors poking out either side of the mound like the arms of a metallic dwarf.

Wading laboriously through the snow they crossed the broad yard down to the huge barn. One side of the massive structure was dominated by a line of garage doors, three in all. To one side, partially obscured by snow, one of the doors was painted with a large badge around which were the words, St. Lawrence County Fire & Rescue . Below the badge were large letters; M.E.V.S under which words revealed the acronym to mean Mobile Emergency Veterinary Service.

“Veterinary EMS?" Sean asked while Drake kicked snow away from a door between the garage entries.

“FEMA unloaded those things on us a few years back." The dog explained, hauling the door open against the heaped snow. “I had the space to store it, so got drafted to be the county's emergency vet." They slipped through the partially opened door and the machine behind that painted door revealed itself to be a heavily modified livestock trailer painted with the same badge and acronym, accessorized with a plethora of emergency lights.

Within the barn it was considerably warmer, though still quite cool. Sean followed the dog past the flashy trailer, the neighboring garage space occupied by a boat and a couple of lawn tractors. One of those had a snow-blower attached to the front but that was nothing compared to the huge farm tractor parked in the last bay with a similar though much larger blower attached to it.

The smell of 'farm' struck Sean almost immediately; that unique fetor of livestock, fodder, and machinery in a poorly ventilated space. It was certainly not offensively strong, but to Sean's city nose it was certainly pungent. He followed along while Drake turned on lights, leaving the garage into the barn proper. They entered a feed room first, large bales of hay stacked on one side radiating a welcome warmth in the confined space. Bins lined another wall while the far wall, dominated by a wide barn door, was hung with all manner of farm tools and animal handling equipment. A large, two-wheeled barrow was parked beneath a long fabric tube that descended from the ceiling. Turning a lever at the top of that tube caused it to suddenly thicken as grain poured swiftly into the barrow. After a few moments he turned the lever back to its original position and the spill of grain ceased.

“Grab the barrow." Drake said, picking up a plastic shovel and stabbing it into the heap of grain. The dog pushed open the barn door and a waft of warm, pungent air wafted into the feed room. Grabbing up two bails as easily as Sean might his valise Drake strode into the dimly lit vastness of the livestock area. Sean followed with the barrow. “I've only got a few boarders and patients in right now so this won't take much time at all. Take that barrow and fill the feed bin at each stall that's occupied, there's only seven." While talking the dog ambled down the wide aisle between roomy stall boxes. A few heads poked out to peer at them; mostly horses and a couple of cows.

Sean found that the large plastic bins could be pivoted out of the stall so he could fill them without entering, filling each with two or three scoops of the shovel. He even managed the task without spilling very much of the grain. The animals merely watched him sedately before setting to their meal once he let the bins rock back into place. Drake offered little instruction, entering each of the stalls to take the remnants of the previous day's hay out of the mangers and fill them with fresh straw.

Sean finished and parked the barrow near the door to the feed room and wandered down the stalls until he found which one Drake was in. The dog was tending to a tall horse with bandages on its neck, the animal standing calmly as the bandages were unwrapped and carefully peeled away. The sight of the raw looking wounds on the poor horse's neck made Sean wince.

“What happened to him?"

“Her." Drake offered without looking up, leaning close to one of the glistening red wounds and snuffling a few times. He caught Sean's confused frown and chuckled. “This is a mare, Sean. She got tangled in some fence wire and was stuck for a few days, managing all this trying to get free. By the time a hunter found her infection had set in, so here she is."

“Why'd you sniff it?"

“The best diagnostic tool in the world." Drake tapped the side of his muzzle, “I can tell more about her health with a couple sniffs than a human vet by just looking and probing."

“So… you were trying to smell the infection?"

“Exactly. Most of it's gone, but it never hurts to double check." Reaching over the horse he handed Sean a wad of bandages stained an ugly shade of bruised-meat brown. He took the mass gingerly and set it on the floor outside. “Hand me that box, over on the shelf to the left." Outside of each stall was a rack of shelves, most of them holding cleaning or grooming equipment. Or, in the case of a patient, medical supplies. He picked up the large green box and handed it into the cell. The horse bowed its – her – head to sniff the box curiously while Drake took out fresh bandages. “So, Sean, tell me something." He looked up from beneath the mare's bowed neck.

“What's that?"

“You like having a pet?"

Sean blinked, confused that that non-sequitur. “Pet?"

“Of course. Isn't that what humans call them? Cats and dogs, horses even?" He patted the mare on an unblemished spot of her neck, carefully applying a pungent ointment to the glistening wound. “Pets?"

“If you mean a housedog or whatever, like that horse there? I don't have any."

“You have Taws, she's a dog."

Sean scowled, “Yeah, a pet, sure. It's a hassle, really, you know? Shed fur positively everywhere. Clogging the drains in the bathtub, the stench of wet dog all over the house whenever it so much as drizzles. At least she's toilet trained." He growled, folding his arms and glaring at the dog working on his patient. “It pisses me off, really. Pet." He spat the last word irritably. Drake ducked his head to glance up at him from beneath his patient's neck again. Sean met his inquisitive look with a level stare, lips pressed in a thin line. “Where the hell did that come from?"

“Just curious."

“No, really." Sean leaned on the side of the stall with his folded arms. “You think I put a leash and collar on her? Prance her up and down Broadway like some snotty human species supremacist?"

“Some do."

“Oh, they do." Sean nodded jerkily, “I've seen them. Can't say as I know any that do, either side of that arrangement. Sure as hell not us, Taws and I. Hell, if anything, I'm her pet." He held up the pinky of one finger and twirled the index finger of his other hand around it a few times. “Though she'd probably bite me if I put it in such crass terms."

Drake chuckled quietly and spent a few moments pressing bandages over the largest of the wounds, carefully wrapping a length of gauze around her neck. “I just wanted to know where you stood. Some of her other boyfriends had that haughtiness, that sense of being better."

“She brought them here?"

Drake nodded, knotting the gauze securely and checking to make sure it was not too tight. “A few. You're the fourth, but the first human." He chuckled again and moved to work on the mare's shoulder. “And the first one of the lot to come out at oh-dark-thirty and help out."

“Oh."

“I saw the tail ring, you know. So did Fae." Sniffing the injury a few times, he seemed satisfied that it was not festering and set about applying the ointment. “That's not a human custom."

“We don't have tails."

“Not one that many humans know about, I mean."

“Yeah, I didn't. A friend told me about it when I was shopping for rings."

Pressing a fresh bandage to the wound Drake held it in place as he used his free hand to apply some sort of animal hair tolerant adhesive tape around it. “Didn't think to ask, though. That is a thing, for humans and non."

Sean cocked an eyebrow, “Ask?"

Drake looked up over the horse's shoulder while she snuffled at the hip of his coveralls hoping to find a treat in his pockets. “Tradition has the suitor asking the father before proposing. Heck, before even courting, back in the day."

“You think that'd stop Taws?" Sean asked, trying not to sound too brash about the matter.

That got him another look from Drake. “No, I don't imagine it would. She's always had her own mind about things, even when she was just a pup." He patted the horse and stepped away from her a bit. “But this isn't just about Taws, or even you for that matter. This is about family. That's why you're here after all; to see how you'll 'fit in'."

“I –" Sean stammered, caught aback. He coughed and tried to find his train of thought. Glib marketing and advertising words simply failed to give him an escape. “I – no, I didn't." He huffed and cleared his throat, “Mister MacLellan, I –"

“No." Drake cut him off, dropping the unused remnants of the tape roll into the open box.

“No?"

“No. You're a good kid, Sean, I'm not saying otherwise, but I can't in good conscience give you permission to marry my daughter."

Sean felt his heart crash through his gut, thighs, knees, and disappear somewhere beneath the straw littered concrete of the barn floor. He swayed in place for a moment, holding the edge of the stall with one hand while he came to grips with that flat denial. “My dad said the same damn thing." He sighed with a shake of his head. “Worse, even."

Drake loosely crossed his arms over the shoulder of the mare who suffered the lean calmly, her tail swishing the scent of horse about the stall. “Worse than a flat 'no'?"

Sean nodded woodenly, looking down at his hands on the stall rim. “Much. That was back in October." Taking a long breath he leaned his elbows on the edge of the stall, rocking a bit on the balls of his feet, and explained the rather unpleasant event in detail.

It was a Saturday, a bit over a month after Sean's visit to Las Vegas for court – and all of the tension that followed. He little expected Lazarus to randomly drop by as he used to. The collie had not come to visit, nor had he called, since the photographs surfaced.

He and Taws had returned from the grocery and were in the process of putting that away when the doorbell rang. “Just a moment!" he called out loud enough to be heard through the heavy door. A welcome surprise greeted him when he pulled it open with a hiss of weather stripping.

His parents!

“Mom, Dad!" Gherold Garret was an imposing man, standing a good four inches taller than Sean who took more after his mother's side of the line in stature. Dark hair gone the hue of steel was cut in a regulation military flat top still crowned his head which was perched upon squared shoulders that had not begun to sag despite his nearly sixty years. “Mom!" Shorter than her husband by six inches, Mabelline Garret was showing more of her years in a general softening of her curves but still cut a rather pleasant form despite that. They smiled when Sean met them at the door, coming in when he quickly stepped aside to pull the door fully open. “What a surprise, I had no idea you were coming into town."

“We were just on our way down from Maine," Mabelline explained, pulling her son into a crushing embrace after he closed the door. “On our way to Florida to escape winter, like every other smart bird."

“Migration is the pleasure of retirement, mom." Sean replied as he returned the embrace. Separating, he ushered them through the dining room and into the living room. Taws emerged from the kitchen, which was separated from the livingroom by nothing more than a bar, wiping her paws on a towel.

“Hello." Sean's mother offered the collie with a smile.

“Good evening, ma'am, sir." Taws offered a smile without showing teeth, her ears up, curious at the newcomers.

“Mom, dad, this is Taws. Taws, my parents, Gherold and Mabelline."

“Pleased to meet you."

Sean's father, heretofore silent while he scanned the house and furred visitor, quirked an eyebrow. “No Ashley?"

Sean shook his head, “No, dad. We had a – bit of a bad turn last Christmas. She dumped me. I thought I told you?"

“Oh," Mabelline murmured with a frown, “Yes, you did tell us that." She waved her fingers in a flighty gesture, “But in all the driving around I guess we forgot. I'm sorry, dear."

Sean shrugged and smiled, “I'm not. I found someone far better." With a slight turn Sean waved a hand across toward his canine girlfriend. “Taws is quite a bit more than Ashley ever was."

Gherold raised his eyebrow even further. “She is?"

“Oh yes." Rocking a little on the balls of his feat Sean beamed. “In fact, I proposed two months ago."

“Proposed?" Sean's mother's surprise was evident.

“She's your fiancé?" Gherold did not sound surprised, nor pleased, his voice taking on that edge of hardness Sean was rather unhappily familiar with. Despite only a few short years in the Air Force he had never lost that steely military aspect from his demeanor, or manner of speaking.

With an inward wince Sean nodded, “Yes, dad, she's my fiancé."

With a brief, hard glance at Taws Gherold turned himself to face his son. “Sean, have you totally taken leave of your senses?"

From the corner of his eye Sean saw Taws' ears rotate flat back and her tail droop down behind her knees. “What?"

“Son, you're saying you proposed – to a dog?" Gherold's flat tone become a rumble, his arms folding hard across his chest. Taws took a couple of slow steps back, her ears flattening further down, almost lost in the lush fur atop her head. Only her dress kept her tail from tucking between her knees.

“Yes, father, I did." Sean frowned, somewhat taken aback by the sudden unexpected intransigence from his father. Gherold was a man of unwavering conservatism, but the attitude was unexpected. “I expected you would be pleased I had chosen who to share my life with!"

“Unacceptable." Gherold was not inclined to budge. Mabelline frowned in consternation, sensing the disagreement to come while Taws continued to retreat, a slow pace at a time. “Firstly, it is illegal. Secondly, Sean, she's a dog! Not a human!"

“Firstly, dad, it won't be illegal for much longer. California is making that abundantly clear. Alaska and Hawaii are going to be non-events when they make it legal, too. Secondly, dad, just deal with it. You're the one responsible for my being the way I am, and the way I am is this, who can see past the fur to the fact that there is a person under it!" Taws had, by that point, disappeared entirely. Her retreat angered Sean more even than his father's stubborn refusal to accept his choice.

“Don't you lay that at my feet, boy!" Gherold snapped, unfolding his arms to thrust a finger toward Sean. “I taught you better than that!"

“Bullshit." Sean snarled, squared fully toward his father, hands upon his hips. Raising them he sketched quotation marks in the air, “'They're people, son, always remember that. Don't think that fur makes them any different.' Shit, dad, Deitrich Klintz was your business partner for almost thirty years! Longer than I've been alive! And he's a schnauzer!"

“That's right son, he was a dog, but you don't get it. His wife was also a dog!" Holding his finger a couple feet from Sean's nose Gherold growled angrily, “And, what's more important, is that he knew his place!"

“What, on the Beast side of town with the other animals?"

“No, Sean. He knew that dogs mix with dogs, humans with humans! Where he lived did – does – not matter. He knew the right of things, and apparently that was completely lost on you!" By now Sean's father was bellowing and his mother had disappeared as completely as Taws had, leaving the two men to face each other one on one. “ Species do not mix! "

“They do, they have, and they sure as hell will regardless of your blinkered bigotry, dad. My firm is behind that movement, and I'm a part of it, Taws is a part of it. And she's a part of my life! She'll be a part of the rest of my life."

“You've lost your god damned mind, Sean! You can't even have children! Why would you do that to your mother? To your lineage?"

“Don't be stupid, dad. I've been donating for seven years! Your damn 'lineage' is probably all over the damn country by now. I put my two cents into this upcoming law, I've got that angle covered."

“Covered how – you two can fuck all you want, but what's going to come of it? Damnit, Sean, this fool's choice you've made is revolting to the core! Just the thought you –" He paused, eyes going narrow as he glared down at his son, meeting a glare of equal intensity in return. “You are, aren't you? Jesus Christ on a fucking pike, Sean! If this were my house –"

“DON'T!" Sean bellowed loud enough to cut his father off in mid-tirade. “Don't you fucking dare! Guess what, god damnit? This is my fucking house! Paid for by the sweat of my fucking brow. And guess what that means, dad?" Sean strode forward until he was standing too close for his father to continue wagging that finger at him. “My house, dad, my fucking rules!" Half turning he thrust an arm toward the front of the house. “As you've always said, dad. 'If you don't like it, there's the door!'"

“Sean, get your head out of your ass and –"

“Decision's been made, dad. Now, what's yours going to be?" Sean growled, dropping his voice dangerously, his arm still leveled toward the door. Gherold held his ground for a long moment, glaring down at his son, who had seldom stood up quite so firmly against his domineering fury. Taking a single half step back he snapped a left-face with military precision and strode for the door. “If you walk out that door, don't ever expect to come back through it without an apology!" Sean bellowed after him.

“Mabelline!" Gherold bellowed without slowing, yanking the front door open violently and smashing the screen door behind it open with a single thrust of his arm. “We're leaving!" The screen door slammed the wall and swung back, only to be batted aside again. Sean's mother appeared from the hallway leading to the bedrooms, a concerned expression on her face as she looked at Sean and then through the open front door. The screen door closed with a rattle.

“Sean, dear, what did you do?" She asked pensively, staring after his father.

“I made a decision, mother. I've made it, and I'm not going to back down an inch. Ever." Sean scowled, but kept his voice at a civil level of furious. “He's going to have to live with it, or not, if he wants to be a part of my life again." He waved one hand toward the bedrooms, where he assumed Taws had retreated to. “Of our lives, together."

“I hope it's the right choice, Sean."

His eyes sliced away from the door to his mother with a quirk of one brow, “Are you going to question me too, mom?"

“Of course, Sean, dear. You're my son, the choices you make are always something that concerns me, as a mother. But, if that's your choice, it's yours."

Sean sighed and shrugged, “He's not coming back here, mom. Not without accepting that my choices are mine, he does not direct me anymore." Tiredly he flicked a hand toward the open door. “You should take the wheel mom, or he'll wreck himself before getting out of the driveway."

With an exasperated sigh Mabelline quickly pushed through the screen door, without slamming it open against the wall. Sean stood mutely at the threshold between living and dining areas, watching the car in the drive start and back away. With a last brief flash of break lights it disappeared behind a neighbor's hedges.

“That went well." Drake offered levelly once Sean had finished reciting that disaster. His mother had called him a couple of times since, but only spoke of inconsequential things; their trip, arriving safe in Saint Augustine where their retirement home was. Nothing was said of Taws, or of his father who refused to share in those brief, uncomfortable conversations.

“It was a complete disaster." Sean sighed, “I never, in my wildest dreams, expected that he would flip out like that. Disagree, perhaps, like you do. But nothing like that. We didn't live in an area where there were many non-humans, but there were a few at every school I went to. I just never thought of them as anything other than what they were. Are. People just like me."

“With fur."

“Of course."

“That you never looked at beyond the scope of associates and co-workers, certainly without any sort of romantic interest. People, but a separate people."

“Yeah, I guess." Sean admitted with a nod, “Not until Taws."

Drake knelt to close the medical box and police up the discarded wrappers, “I'm sorry, son. I really don't mind in the least who her lovers are, and you've not disappointed me in the man that I've seen so far. But… it just cannot be."

“For the children,"

Drake nodded and stepped out of the stall. “Exactly. We'd like to have grandkids, to continue the family line and all. Just as your parents want."

Sean looked up and nodded, “What if I told you I had already planned for that?"

Setting the box back on its shelf Drake favored him with a sideways glance, “Go ahead?" And Sean did, explaining the entire complex plan as they finished watering the animals and cleaned out the stalls. Drake listened quietly for the most part, asking for clarifications and making a few suggestions on points that he thought Sean had overlooked. Of course, being human, Sean had overlooked quite a few and had to take notes on a prescription pad to refer to later.

An hour later they stood once more in the garage bays, between the MEVS trailer and small lawn tractors, Drake pondering all that he had been told. He gave a short nod as he rubbed his furry chin between fingers and thumb. “If those are your plans, and they are surprisingly deep, and it all pans out as you hope, then I guess… well, Sean, I guess I can – tentatively – accept your wish.

“Yes, you may marry my daughter."

Swaying in place Sean threw up his arms as if to embrace the older collie, then dropped them at the dog's raised brow and thrust out his hand. “Thank you, doc, thank you!" When Drake grasped his hand he pumped it with enthusiastic relief, “I won't let you down."

Drake, his arm and shoulder quaking with the force of Sean's pumping handshake, could only bark a laugh, “Somehow, son, I don't think you will. For a human, you impress me a hell of a lot more than any dog she's brought by to visit."

Taws finally wandered down to the kitchen some while later, the peace of her sleep ruined by the diesel roar of Drake's tractor. The buzz of the lawn tractor Sean had been given was naught but a kitten purring alongside a lion. She looked out through the dining room window to watch them tackle the snow.

“Think Baxter would've been out there?" Her mother asked, offering a mug of coffee.

Taws scoffed as she accepted the steaming mug, “With just his short fur? He never went outside in the cold, much less in snow." She savored her first sip and watched as Sean maneuvered around the snow shrouded lumps of the vehicles parked out front, careful to divert the fan of snow in a safe direction. He looked comically outsized and awkward in his many layers of winter clothing.

“Sean has no fur at all." Faolin observed. They wandered back to the kitchen where Taws perched on a stool at the island and her mother returned to preparing a breakfast feast. “He seems like a nice boy."

“Oh, he is." Taws' teeth flashed in a ribald canine grin. “Very nice."

Faolin caught her daughter's leer and snorted a laugh, “Oh, really, T? He's just a human, what can he do?"

“Perhaps not as much in some ways, but oh so much more in others. It balances out just right."

Flipping home-made sausage patties the elder collie chuckled with a shrug. “I'll take your word for it, dear. But tell me; why him?"

Taws twitched one tall cream-under-orange ear back, the other forward, “Him, Sean? Or him, the human?"

“For now, just him; Sean." A quartet of patties went onto a platters and four fresh ones went onto the griddle.

“He treated me right when I was not feeling worth it."

“After Baxter walked out?"

Taws took a long draught of perfect coffee, letting it roll about in her powerful muzzle for a moment while she pondered. “No. Well before Baxter, actually. When I was with Tommy." Her mother glanced up from her cooking, whiskers angling back along her muzzle with a tightening of her jaw. Tommy had never been good for their girl, nor had he deigned to visit. Drake very likely would've fed the mutt to his combine with Faeolin's help. Taws tipped her muzzle up toward the kitchen sink and waved a free paw toward a bottle of hand soap perched there. “It was Satin."

“Satin?"

“Yeah. About the time Tommy was getting really bad with his belittling one of our clients, Berchauster Cosmetics, came at us with their new Satin line of fur care products. About a hundred of us were gathered in a conference room to discuss the product with one of their reps. I was on one of the traditional media teams as little more than a gopher, not feeling worth much after months with Tommy." Faolin sighed with a nod; that was a truly unpleasant six months for everyone. Lazarus was working interdiction in Seattle, too far away to wan the damn dog off. Taws was under his thumb and too browbeaten to tell Drake where to find him for some improper country veterinary care.

“So, here we are all gathered with the rep while he gives us a rundown of the product line and the entire core group were humans. Out of one hundred people there were maybe eight or nine non-humans, including the rep from Berchauster. “So this horse gets done speaking and opens the floor to questions and one of the humans stands up. He's not a heads; no one I knew, back in the scrum behind the department leads. This human stands up and looks around and then throws in one hell of a comment. 'This product line,' he says, 'is all about fur care. How can we represent it when there are so few here who would ever use it, or understand what it even means? I, for one, don't have fur. How am I supposed to understand what I'm trying to market? Who should I ask or consult to direct my creative efforts?'

“This created quite a stir because the Partner overseeing the Berchester contract, Lanniscourt, is pretty human-centric. For almost a week there was a lot of stress over the whole thing, because of what he said before anything anyone else had to offer. Berchester was close to pulling the product, and their contract, when Lanniscourt refused to change his team compositions. But higher-ups finally put it all to bed, shifted Lanniscour to another product, and the teams were shuffled. In the end thirty of us were working on the Satin line, only seven of which were humans. By request of Berchester the guy who spoke out was made a liaison between the various teams sort of like an associate level gopher, helping coordinate the various presentation releases.

“Being the lowest senior team member I ended up as a bit of a gopher, so I worked with this guy a lot. Whenever he talked to me it was… so strange, so different than I've ever been used to around humans professionally. He didn't talk at me, through me, or down to me. He'd look me directly in the eye and listen to what I had to say. Even tried to make me feel better when Tommy had me feeling worthless." Taws spoke from her memories of the time, both dismal and delightful in turns, her gaze toward her coffee or the kitchen window looking out into the darkness over the seaway. “He treated me like a person, mom. Not some drudge or a mere talking animal to babble at and promise treats."

“And that was Sean?" Plattered, drained patties were covered and joined rising biscuits in one of the ovens. Bacon replaced sausage on the griddle, adding to the country hominess of rich scents filling the house.

“That was Sean." Taws nodded with a soft smile. “Always professional, respectful, and encouraging no matter how discouraged I was before I left the apartment. He helped my confidence without ever realizing it and I was finally able to walk out on Tommy."

“I remember that row." Faolin growled with a shake of her head, flipping bacon. “Fool's lucky he didn't come out here looking for you those two weeks. But you didn't end up with Sean. You got Baxter."

Taws shrugged and padded over to the coffee maker for a refill. “Baxter was – eh, not really for serious." Taking time to flavor her coffee she finally turned and leaned her hip against the counter, long tail swishing the towel hanging in front of the sink. Outside the farm tractor's roar had calmed to a growl and, a few minutes later, coughed irritably and went silent. Faolin put the biscuits into the heated overn and began warming the waffle irons. “I knew it, he knew it. Wasn't fun being the one walked out on when it finally ended but, eh, c'est la vie. Sean already had a woman at the time. I was not about to cause problems for him, so I merely waited.

“And then she left him. It was almost as bad as the way Baxter left me – just up and gone, poof. Did I tell you how she told him, mom?"

“Yeah, by text." Faolin nodded. Setting aside her coffee cup Taws turned to dig plates out of the cabinets and set them out on the island.

“Yeah. Two days before he was going to propose; at Christmas. He was utterly crushed." She placed flatware, glasses, and freshly cleaned mugs around the plates. “I wasn't sure if it could or would work, but he's put more into our relationship than I expected."

Reaching over to tap the silver-on-black of the tungsten ring on her finger Faolin smiled, “We noticed, dear. But now what, if the politics and banner-wavers have their say and this law you're marketing comes to pass? I may gain a worthy son-in-law, but that's all I'll get, dear." The older collie's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, “But, what about children?"

Taws' own shoulders rose and fell, her ears backed self-conciously at the quandary posed by her mother, “What about Lazarus? He dates bitches too, you know."

“Yes, but his career is so… mobile, volatile. It's not the family kind of life, like yours." Faolin countered as she slipped bacon onto a rack to drain.

“Yes, the kind with rushed deadlines, long commutes, and career advancement. Mom, I'm finally getting noticed at the Firm. My career is going places; I'm the project lead at the Firm on the whole Equality in Marriage campaign. What happens here in New York will help define the movement for all of the red states."

Faolin nodded slowly, “Which is a good thing, dear, a splendid thing. But it's a stable career. It doesn't move you all over the country at a moment's notice, and… no undercover disappearing for months at a time."

Taws frowned, taking pans to the sink, her back to her mother with shoulders squared as she looked down at the cluttered sink. “And I'm the girl, is that it, mom? Is that what you're getting at?"

“No, Taws, not at all. Your job is stable, that's all. It's one that is good for making a family, not like Lazy's chaotic cloak-and-dagger. It's not dangerous." Walking over to stand beside her daughter she slipped the cooling griddle onto the countertop beside the sink. She looked aside at the uncomfortable younger collie, “Are you trying to tell me you don't want pups, hon?"

Taws turned on the water to fill the sink with a shake of her head, “I do, mom. I never said that we didn't, Sean and I. There are ways to have pups without having a dog in my life. IVF, AI. All of the things dad does for animals are done by human medicine for them all the time, too. And besides, there's adoption if it really comes down to that."

Faolin scoffed and helped her daughter wash the pots and pans dirtied by cooking. The outer door of the mud room squealed and banged, Sean and Drake conversing in muffled grunts and cold chuffs as they peeled out of their layers of warm clothing in the mud room. The sun had just begun to pale the darkness of the eastern sky. “Adoption… ehh, commendable, but not the same, dear. But, I guess you and he will figure it out."

Setting the last of the pans on a rack Taws nodded, wiping her hands dry with a towel. “We will." She flashed a gleaming smile of sharp canine teeth at her mother, “It certainly won't be the first thing we've had to figure out together."

“Oh dear." Faolin chuckled. Pouring fresh mugs of coffee around the plates at the island Faolin favored her daughter with a warm canine smile, “I won't tell you what to do or not do, Taws dear, I'm just curious is all." Presenting a united front the two collie ladies met their men, collie and human respectively, at the inner door with warm drinks and warm hugs.

Sunday –

Sean woke early the next morning, as well, to join Drake once again out in the barn tending the animals. They spent some time afterward improving the impromptu clearing that they had begun the day before while Taws and Faolin prepared a feast for them to come back inside to. Faolin did not believe in moderation in the kitchen, every meal was a true feast. After polishing that off and retiring to their respective rooms to shower – with Taws doing a lot of distracting making Sean's run rather long – everyone dressed in warm clothes, piled into Drake's huge truck, and made their way into 'The Berg' as locals called it.

Ogdensberg was not a large city by any means, some thirty thousand people all told within its municipal boundaries. Much of the local labor was shipping, fishing, or working at the two local prisons. As with many rural communities it had a larger overall population ratio of non-humans than huge urban areas like New York City did; some thirty-five percent overall compared to the scant twelve percent in the city. They toured the local mall, which to Sean was a vastly underwhelming experience owing to his familiarity with the near endless variety of shopping to be found around the city, but he enjoyed it all the same.

What truly astounded him, however, was Faolin's job, such as it was. He was not entirely sure of her actual job duties; she either worked for, or with, or seemed to be the primary boss to the employees of no less than seven positively astounding green houses. Even with the frigid bite of the northern winter setting in there were fresh strawberries by the bushel, and tomatoes, and pretty much any other sort of garden vegetable that could be wanted. In truly amazing quantities, all being planted, grown, harvested, and packed away for shipment to Boston, Buffalo, and pretty much any other city in the state. Sean was even familiar with the brands he saw on those boxes, he purchased their products on a weekly basis without ever being consciously aware of their source.

And not a single plant's roots was touched by traditional dirt. It was not the expected hydroponics that Sean was very slightly familiar with, either, comprising of a very carefully balanced ecosystem of fish in huge tanks living in water circulated throughout each greenhouse. Faolin explained that there were thirty one such operations in Ogdensberg churning out as much material as thirty thousand 'turned earth' acres yet taking up a tenth of the space. It was called 'aquaponics', that combination of aquaculture or fish farming and hydroponics, raising plants almost entirely on water enriched by those fish.

To Sean it was fascinating. He was enraptured by Faolin's lengthy, often bizarrely complex, explanations of the process while Taws and Drake, both very familiar with it, tagged along and carried their 'groceries'. Sean went into cook-space, scouring each of the greenhouses they visited, selecting a huge assortment of produce seldom easily found fresh so long out-of-season. After showing him around for several hours they stopped at a popular local steak house for lunch, which Sean insisted on covering, and then to a screening of the latest Guard Dogs sci-fi space epic.

They returned home as the sky was darkening, laden with bags and boxes of fresh produce, fish, and huge prawns which Sean immediately went about preparing. Faolin and Taws could only laugh as he bustled about the kitchen like an Iron Chef in rapture. Drake, bemused, looked on. He was no accomplished cook; he had never needed to be since he married one. He favorably compared himself as a recliner-bound beer swilling boor in comparison to Sean.

Not that he drank beer, he pointed out, popping the top off of a locally brewed lager retrieved from the snow covered back deck. Sean quickly added another bottle of it to his cooking, and yet another to his hand while he cooked. Faolin looked on, very happy to stay out of Sean's way except when she secured things he could not find in her well-appointed kitchen. For the first time in years she had not needed to lift a finger for dinner.

Chapter 1 < > (placeholder)