>Be Anon
>Lonely, got some spare cash from overtime you put in last week
>Walking home from work, it's not that far
>Walking by the pet shelter
>Maybe a dog or something would help the dating situation, girls like dogs
>Girls. You like girls
>And going on dates
>Shelter is dimly lit shithole, poster of cute puppy on the wall a more apt advertisement for preemptive euthanasia than adoption
>4/10 blonde at the desk, looks like a voulenteeer
>"Oh, Hello! Looking to adopt"
>No, You are here to drink deep of the scent of dying animal
"I am, what do you have?"
>"Come on back!"
>Back room smells like dogcat pissshit, might have cleaned it in the last couple of years
>"Feel free to look around" Says volunteer femanon
>A deeper pit of despair you have never seen
>Dogs all shivering
>Cats all hissing at you
>Keep walking further back
>See the most fucked up looking bright red dog on earth
>Adopting Clifford would certainly be a conversation starter for all those parties you host
>Dog looks at you
>That shit is not a dog, looks more like a small brightly colored horse
 
>It unsteadily gets to it's legs and walks the pace to the chainlink wall
>Damn thing is about four feet tall at the shoulder, looking at you with fucking huge green eyes
>He's a mess, his dusty yellow mane shaggy, tangled and looking stained with something
>His red coat is tangled and matted
>His hooves look brown with mud and you don't want to know what else.
>"Oh, that poor thing" Femanon says "He was just dropped off here a month ago, between you and me it's almost time for E-U-T-H-E-N-A-S-S-I-A"
>Bint is spelling like the damn thing can understand words anyway
>The pony shivers, the motion making a large green apple shape clear on his hip
>He's cute in a disgusting, dirty, pathetic sort of way
>He might just do, looks like he could carry groceries for you or whatever, isn't growling, just starting at you
"How much?"
 
>Femanon prattles on about registration fees
>Long story short, you buy the freakiest second hand dog in the city
>Good going Anon, you are the best at shopping
>Walk back into the storage area with femanon, she unlocks the cage
>Pony-thing is sitting in the back corner, still shivering
>"It's time to go home with your new daddy, cutie!"
>You seriously can't stand that "pet daddy" shit
>Femanon walking closer to the shivering pony and ties a some rope around its' neck
>Damn, you'll need to buy it a collar and everything
>Pony looks around for a moment, looking ready to run for it's life as femanon hands you the rope
>You give it a soft tug and the pony stands, turning quickly and picking up a ragged, filthy looking you don't even know what. A teddy bear or something
>"Oh, he doesn't go anywhere without that"
>Gross, but whatever
>You start leaving the area, ponything follows you easily enough, shaking but keeping pace with you.
>Score, a pre-leash-trained pet.
 
>The smog-stained air still smells better than the deathpit.
>Ponything sways his short, tangled, gross tail in something like a wag, gross teddybeast in his jaws still
"Well... uh, home's not far, and there's a petstore we can stop at"
>Damn, now you're talking to it like it can understand words.
>No, not it, it's a boy ponything, you think.
>You start off down the street, the ponybeast keeps pace, even though this is the most he's walked in a month
>Actually he's kind of a trooper in his own filthy, gross way
>Trooper might be a good name
>Get to "Smallest Pet Shop"
>You have no idea why they call it that, damn thing is in an old Petsmart.
>Go inside, get hate-glares from cash-slaves
"Umm... do you have stuff for ponies?"
>Cash-slave points you to the back corner and goes back to playing farmville
>Find some pony food and salt licks, apperently having small colorful house-equines is a niche market
>Even find a nice collar for Trooper, and a leash to go with it
>Even manage to find a saddlebag the right size for him
>What, you're not carrying everything when you have a miniature pack horse
>Pick up some pony-wash and food bowls on your way out
>Cash-slave rings everything up while begging her friends to water her virtual plants
 
>Trooper is wearing his bag and carrying most of your purchases, still on the rope
>Not going to put his collar on until he gets a bath or something
>Walks home with you without leaving your side or falling behind
>Return to shithole apartment building
>Enter just barely not shithole apartment and take off Trooper's saddlebag with some difficulty, taking out the pony wash
>Now that you're inside, you notice Trooper smells like dogcat pissshit
>Use the rope to lead Trooper into your cramped bathroom and take the ponywash with you
>Lock door and remove the rope, starting the shower on the hottest setting, lukewarm
>Trooper looks suspiciously at the shower as you gently corral him in; setting down his ragbeast on the toilet cover, the pony startles under the water for a moment before relaxing, sitting on his haunches. The water coming off him is already a shit-brown.
>Trooper seems to slowly relax as you pour the ponywash down his back and in his mane, avoiding his freaky-huge eyes
>Work the ponywash into his tangled mane, the big thing twitching and making a soft whinny as you tug on the knots
>You slow down, still trying to work out the tangles and deciding only a trimmer can fix this.
>Work the soap into his coat, rubbing his belly and sides gently, the pony colder than you would expect of an animal and his ribs easy to feel
>Trooper has earned his name, even in the face of malnutrition
>Do Trooper's tail, finding it equally tangled and unruly
>After half an hour, the ponybeast smells like soap instead of death.
>Shut off the shower and towel him off
>Trooper starts shivering as you dry off his chest and nearly visible ribs
>Open bathroom door and get an old blanket from your room
 
>Find Trooper in the bathroom, laying on his belly with his ragbeast between his forelegs
>Drape the blanket over him and dig out your beard trimmer
>Clip on the longest head and start it up
>Trooper twitches and looks up at the source of the noise, holding his ragthing closer
>It's cute in a gross way, you don't even want to know what that thing has soaked in over the past month, you'll throw it away tonight
>You sit next to your tiny horse and start to trim his mane
>Trooper looks ready to run, but stays still as you take out all the knots, leaving his mane a mostly uniform short-ish length
>You do the same to his tail
>Now he looks like a tiny warhorse or something
>Girls will love a tiny brightly colored warhorse, it's feminine yet masculine. You'll be complex
>Take out the scissors and take out the worst of the coat tangles
>Trooper now looks patchy but dignified
>You give him a little pet and leave, setting his bowls in the kitchen corner and filling them with food and water
>You whistle
>Okay, you can't whistle, you sort of blow air
>Trooper gets the message and trots over to you, his newly-clean hooves a flat yellow
>You have a sensibly colored technicolor tiny house-horse, score a second time
>Trooper picks up the pace when he sees the food, eating everything in under a minute and lapping up the water in twice the time
>You leave him and find his gross ragbeast
>There it is, in the bathroom
>You pick it up with two fingers and start toward the trash can
 
>Trooper rams your hip with his head and starts whining, forehooves pawing at you gently, eyes locked on the ragthing
"Trooper, this thing is disgusting, I'm throwing it away and getting you a new one"
>There you are, talking to it again
>Push past him and drop the offending cloth filth-sponge in the trashcan, Trooper pawing at your thighs and whining the whole time
>He starts nuzzling at the trashcan afterwards, still whining
>Go and get his collar while he's busy
 
>Clip his collar on, making sure it's not going to fall off but loose enough not to choke your mighty tiny warhorse
>It's a dark brown, kind of a nice color on Trooper you think
>He's still trying to get the trash open
"Trooper, you don't go into the trash"
>You say this and tug on his collar, he whinnies again and whines, lowering his head and flattening his ears
>You let him go, and he doesn't go back to digging in the trash
"Good boy"
>For his obedience, he gets an earrub
>Walk over to your couch and flip on the television
>Well, it's a few feet away, you sort of shuffle a yard and sit.
>You pat the seat next to you.
>Trooper jumps up and sits down next to you, curling up and looking tired
>Watch television with your ponybeast, petting his side and ears
>He seems to like it, you think. Or he could just be asleep
>Yeah, he's asleep
>Nothing to stay up for, you turn off the lights and walk into your bedroom
>Still no gf. Want a gf. Definitely.
>Fall asleep
 
>Crash, bang, someone swearing loudly
>Fuck, someone has broken into your shithole apartment building and is in your kitchen
>Dynamicly exit your bed and grab the kendo stick you keep for just this purpose
>Burst out into your kitchen-living-entry room
>Find nothing, just Trooper looking sheepish with that damn filthsponge in his mouth surrounded by garbage, trash can tipped over
>Check your front door
>Still locked, must have hallucinated the yelling, or it could've been Mr. McYellsAtTheTV downstairs
>You look around at the grabage and the pony now laying on his belly, looking like he's trying to hide under his forelegs
"Trooper, what did I..."
>You stop, talking to animals is a crazy cat lady thing to do.
>At this point it might just be easier to wash Trooper's filthbeast tomorrow
"Whatever"
>You walk back into your bedroom, flipping off the lights as you go
>Getting comfortable as you see Trooper in the doorway
>You pat some of the open space on your bed
>Trooper gets the message and climbs onto the bed, settling on top of the cover
>You pull the cover out from under trooper and cover him
>The ponybeast makes a gentle happy noise, drops the smelly rag-beast in the bed and snuggles close to you, licking your cheek softly
>Trooper is really affectionate, it seems.
>You pet is newly-clean coat, stroking through his mane and hugging him close
>The pony falls asleep within moments
>His soft breaths are actually kind of relaxing, his breath smelling a bit like hay, his side rising and falling under your arm
>You fall asleep with this massive teddy bear of a pet in your arms
 
>Morning of the second day
>You wake up as you feel the pony stirring next to you, his hooves pressing into you as he stretches
>It's freaking dawn.
>Birds are chirping and everything
>Trooper retrieves his stinkrag and hops out of bed
>You grumble and growl at the world for having the audacity to be morning, and get out of bed
>"Horsefeathers!"
>You hear in your kitchen, accompanied by a heavy crash
>Kendo stick, dynamic entry
>Trooper is laying on the floor on his side, holding one foreleg to his chest and whining
>And noone else is in the room, front door still locked
>Sherlock mode engaged
>Hear a voice in a room occupied only by your pony...
>Wait, shit, Trooper is hurt
 
>Kneel next to the pony, almost slipping on some of the trash still on the floor
>He's still whimpering and holding his foreleg, looks like he's crying
>You try to touch the leg to examine it with your doctorate from WebMD
>"Don' touch that!" Trooper says
>Wait, what.
>Trooper slaps his one good foreleg over his mouth and looks terrifyed
"Umm... Trooper, did you just talk?"
>The pony looks at you, the away, going back to cradling his hurt foreleg
"Trooper, you definately just spoke just now"
>The pony remains mute and tries to nuzzle one of your palms
>You stroke his mane and ears, then stand to start picking up the garbage
"Well, I'll just throw this away then"
>You say, getting closer to his ragmonster, leaning down to pick it up
>"Wh-wait! Don' do that!"
>Trooper lunges to you, hugging around your legs with his good leg
>"Pleas' by the godesses is all ah have an'..." Trooper starts gibbering, tearing up and burying his face in your calves, half his words cut short by sobs
>You awkwardly turn around and manage to sit on some dry floor, Trooper still gibbering something about " ah wanna be a g-good pet j-jus' lemme keep that..."
>You reach down and stroke his ears, which just seems to make him whine more as he awkwardly pushes himself closer, head buried in your stomach
"Uh... Trooper, slow down"
>You say, free hand feeling for concussion marks, whatever those feel like
>Trooper takes a shuddering breath and hugs his hurt leg to his chest, good leg around your back
>"P-p-please mister ah wanna be a g-good pet d-don' send me b-back"
"Hey, hey I'm... not going to send you anywhere, alright?"
>Trooper just sobs in response, shoulders heaving
>You pet down his ears and neck, trying to comfort the bizzare talking ponybeast
"I won't throw away your... whatever it is"
>"Sm-martah pants..." He manages, pressing into your petting
"Smarty pants... alright, how'd you get that?"
>Trooper snivels and whines softly as he puts a little weight on his foreleg, getting more of his weight in your lap
>"G-gift from ah 'nother pony I kn-knew... b-back in the trainin' facility"
>You start petting Trooper's neck now, the action seeming to calm him down
>"Is all ah have t-ta remember mah friends and family..."
"Oh, you... well, how long ago was that?"
>Trooper sniffles, tears slowly stopping
>"Ha-had ta be more than' ah year ago... I w-was b-baught by my firs' master..."
>The pony moves in closer, hurt leg moving around your back with a slight wince
>"Ah-ah triah'd to be good for 'em, I listen'd and didn' talk when they didn' want me ta..."
>Trooper starts shuddering, sniffling and sobbing returning in fits and starts
>"An' ah really trah'd! Ah d-did! B-but tha master I was bough' for didn't wan' me..."
>You hug the pony close, careful of his hurt leg
>"H-he c-called me freaky and stupid... ah' just wanted ta be ah good pet..."
>You stroke Trooper's ears
"You're not stupid, Trooper"
>A true statement, considering he's the only talking pet you know
 
>"Ah-ah... triah'd!" The pony sobs
>You pick him up, belly-up in your arms.
>He's heavy, but you set him on the couch on his side and start petting along his chest, leaving his head in your lap
>He hasn't stopped talking the whole time
>"An' ah I jus' wanted to help clean' up b-but I slipped and now yer gonna send me back to the shelter an' ah'm n-never gunna s-see mah family again an'"
>You shush the pony gently, if only to stop the barrage
"Trooper, nobody is going back to any shelters, okay?"
>He hugs you with his forelegs, only answering by crying loudly
>You stroke the ponies' ears and mane, the crying intensifying
>"Na'body wan's me..."
>You wrap the pony in your old blanket, touching his hurt leg only drawing a little wince, he must of only pulled it a little
"I bought you, didn't I?"
>"Y-yer gunna send me away like mah first family an'-an' nobody want'ed me in th' shelter an'"
"Why would I do that?"
>"Ah-ah'm a b-bad pet an' nobody wan's a bad pet..."
>You wrap the blanket a little tighter, stroking his ears
"I don't think you're a bad pet"
>"B-b-but ah' am or ah'd still be with ma first master o-or frien's"
"Trooper, it's okay..."
>You wrap him in a tight hug, the pony awkwardly draping his forelegs around your neck as he rests his head on your shoulder
>"Mah Gr-granny n-named me M-Mac, B-Big Mac"
"Alright, it's okay Big Mac"