FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Part One

Skydiving without a parachute seemed like a more desirable activity than remaining seated in that tiny chair and stuffy restaurant for another hour. The music was too loud and the place was jam packed with other families who had all decided, like them, to spend father's day going to eat there.

"How original" muttered Baltasar to himself as he sat, arms crossed.

"Now, now Abigail! You need to hold the fork like this" said Baltasar's mother daintily picking up her own fork and showing the tiny golden retriever pup sitting beside her, the proper way to hold the silverware she currently held balled up in her fist, speckles of lasagna covering her smiling muzzle.

"Haha, we've got a pro with us kiddo! We need to step up our game!" spoke a much older male golden retriever who gently wiped her muzzle with a napkin and proceeded to grab his own fork and eat with exaggerated finesse, outstretched pinky and all.

"Oh really now Roderick!" She chuckled "You two are terrible!, Baltasar, you show Abby how it's done"

The mention of his name snapped Baltasar out of his thoughts and back to the table.

He turned to look at the two retrievers sitting opposite them: The smaller one was staring back, ears perked towards him like satellite dishes and a pinned meatball slowly escaping her fork to plop back on the plate.

The older, taller dog, was also looking at him "Go on T-Balt, quick while you've got her attention!" He smiled at as he gave his daughter's head a quick pat and arranged the little pink bow on it. Baltasar had to fight the desire to glare down at that grinning face.

His mother was looking at him expectantly as well, a smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes, staring straight at his -Just DO IT!- they seemed to plead.

Wordlessly he grabbed the fork and, with a sigh, began eating his so far untouched plate.

The retriever pup quickly followed suit, doing her best to imitate him but still making a hopeless mess.

"Oh well, ya can't win em all Camilla" Laughed Roderick, once again wiping his daughters muzzle clean.

Baltasar dropped the fork and rose rather abruptly "Excuse me for a moment" and walked towards the restrooms.

"Don't be too long or your food will get cold!" came his mother's trailing voice behind him.

In the bathroom, Baltasar quickly locked the door and stared into the mirror, taking deep calming breaths and throwing some water onto his face. He began pacing the room back and forth, the trio's smiles in front of his eyes wherever he turned. How could his mother sit there and act as if everything was just peachy? How could that mutt have the gall to be so chummy with him? To even look at him and dare to smile?

"Just...keep it together...for mother and the mutt" he told his reflection "You can do this, just...keep it cool..." A knock on the door made him hurry and finish washing up, crumpling the paper towel into a ball and tossing it effortlessly across the room straight into the bin as he opened the door. "Sorry I didn-"

It was Roderick.

"What do you want?" He said, trying not to clench his beak, eyes narrowing.

"To talk" he replied, offering up a smile.

"Now? Here? In a bloody bathroom?" Hissed Baltasar in a poor attempt at a whisper.

"Look T-Ba-"

"My NAME is Baltsar"

The retriever closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, smile failing to leave his chops but a sterner tone to his voice "Ok...Baltasar, I want you to come look at something for a moment then, please."

The Retriever scurried off around the wall, beckoning him to follow. Though half tempted to just ignore the dog and walk back to the table, he acquiesced and lumbered behind.

He found the retriever peeking round a corner, tail wagging and happily ignoring the nearby diners giving odd looks to the even odder pair.

"Roderick what the Hell are you doing?"

"Shh! Just take a look will ya? And don't let her see you!"

"See me? Who?" Baltasar stretched his long neck so as to peek into the room. Almost instantly he saw what Roderick was looking at: Way at the back was, in fact, their own table. He could see his mother sitting there, patiently waiting for them to return. Fast asleep beside her, tiny arms trying to wrap around her shell was Roderick's daughter Abigail. In the afternoon light, the sleeping pup's fur gave off the soft golden glow of their namesake as his mother softly caressed her cheek and adjusted the little pink bow on her head. He saw her smiling and in that strange light she somehow looked much younger than Baltasar remembered.

Roderick spoke softly: "That there Baltasar is the most beautiful, kind hearted woman I've ever met and every day I ask myself: How the Hell did a guy like me end up with a gal like her?"

"That makes two of us" Blurted Baltasar almost automatically.

The retriever just chuckled "Well, you know, great minds and all that jazz."

"Roderick, what do you WANT?"

"I want to keep that smile on her face for as long as possible...but I can't do that without your help, Baltasar."

He placed a hand on his shoulder, having to reach up to do so and a moment passed before Baltasar spoke up:

"Go back to the table Roderick, my mother will be wondering where both of us are by now" he said peeling away the paw from his shoulder, expressionless.

The Retriever's face fell and for a moment it seemed he would press the issue, but then closed his muzzle and walked back to the table.

Baltasar waited a moment in the archway and then took a deep breath before walking towards the table himself.

As he approached he saw Roderick and his mother laughing and chuckling and Abigail's tail furiously swatting her chair all three having a good time. But as he approached, their laughter caught in their throats, even Abby's tail slowed its wagging as he loomed closer.

It occurred to Baltasar that HE was the reason they had stopped their revelry. Would THIS really be how things would go from now on?

No.

What Baltasar did next was one of that hardest things, as stilling the pain in his chest and cracking a smile with great effort he chuckled out:

"So guys! What's for dessert!? I'm starving!"

________________________________________

Part Two

It wasn't the prettiest part of town, but it wasn't a slum either.

That was, at least, Baltasar's impression when driving down that part of the city in the old Nissan. It was late in the evening and the meal with his mother and Roderick was over. Banishing the thought of them alone for the rest of the day from his mind, he slowed down a little, reading the numbers on each house. He knew where he was going of course, he had been there many times before, but it had become a habit of his. Finally stopping at a faded yellow building with the paint cracked and peeling.

Parking the car he went up the little steps but didn't bother knocking, he had his own copy of the keys made some time ago and simply let himself in. The apartment building had clearly seen better days but it was clean and well kept or as best as the ancient landlady could manage the very same landlady whose tiny head, crowned with heavily curled horns, peeked out of the first landing door.

"Is that you Torrealba?" she creaked with a voice that sounded as if a rocking chair had learned to speak.

"Yes Doña Rivera, but I'm Baltasar, Mr. Diego's son, remember?" Baltasar spoke raising his voice so that the near deaf and blind ewe could hear him.

Her expression softened somewhat as she adjusted her gigantic glasses, magnifying her eyes to double their size.

"He's behind on his rent...again, you know."

"Well you know how it is Doña Rivera, times are tough for everyone."

"Not for you though! Big soccer player aren't you?"

"Uh, basketball actually but I didn't know you watched sp-"

"Oh your father's been keeping his tv on the sports channels whenever you're on, yells like a madman...he's gotten more than one complaint already... this is a quiet place and most residents here like it that way and-"

"How much did you say he owed again?" he said, a small grin on his face.

"Hm? Oh about two months worth why?"

Baltasar pulled out his wallet and paid for three months, it took some convincing for the old ewe to take the it, assuring her he'd get the money back from him later.

He climbed the stairs carefully as they creaked and groaned under his weight, barely having enough room to turn on each tiny flight, until he reached his fathers room on the third floor. Again, he opened the door himself without bothering to knock, squeezing his frame in before closing it quietly. The musty smell of old books was quick to fill his nostrils as they were littered all over the floor, some even used to prop up a beaten three legged table while others so covered the spindly little thing that Baltasar marveled at how it didn't give under their weight.

"Dad?" he called out softly but got no reply. Listening closely though he heard a faint mechanical clacking from a nearby room, his father was probably typing away in his tiny study, which was scarcely large enough to hold a desk and file cabinet. Knowing it would be rude to interrupt him Baltasar busied himself ordering the chaos in the small living room.

The books weren't organized thematically or by author, but instead in the order they had been read in. They were all well worn, having been bought second hand. Baltasar remembered buying a good deal of them but every now and there he picked up one he hadn't seen before

"A new addition to the family" His father would have joked.

After clearing the kitchen of its own mess and getting the coffee maker brewing, a semblance of order began to emerge inside the tiny apartment, the smell of coffee grounds mixing with the musk of the books into a warm heady scent. Pouring himself a cup, the tortoise pulled out a book at random and sat to read on one of the cushioned seats, whiling away the time.

Soon enough the study door creaked open and Baltasar's father, Diego Torrealba walked in. He had always been rather thin for a tortoise and he entered the room without nearly as much difficulty as his son.

"Baltasar! What...what are you doing here?" He looked honestly surprised, looking around the now ordered room "My books, you moved them..."

"Dont worry Dad, I didn't mess them up, they're in -your- order" Baltasar chuckled as he got up to hug his father, almost completely enveloping him, "Happy Father's day."

His father smelled of iron from the ink at his job at an old fashioned printing press. The dwarfed tortoise weakly returned the hug before he was let go and could catch his breath.

"I got you something you might like" Said Baltasar, eyes lighting up as he started digging in his backpack.

"I...I'll go get a cup of coffee" said the still bewildered Diego, walking into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of the black brew from the pot and nearly spilling it when he turned around and saw his son's face inches from his, smile on his craggy face, arms holding a small wrapped package.

"DON'T sneak up on me like that! How are you so quiet when you're so big? And...what is this?"

"You wont find out until you open it!"

"Baltasar I...really..."

"Go on! Trust me you'll love it!"

Diego sighed and set down his mug, tearing open the parcel's brown paper packaging, upon catching a glimpse of what lay below his eyes widened, and his efforts to liberate the parcel from the wrapping doubled.

"This is...El Nombre de la Rosa?" The old tortoise handled the book as gingerly as if it were a bomb set to go off.

"Italian leather bound hardcover and hand crafted paper too!"

"Baltasar this is...I...can't accept this it must have been so expensive"

"Of course you can! I know you love that book and today is your day" Baltasar crossed his arms, a mock frown on his face "I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm leaving and that book is staying in this house."

A grin similar to his son's lit up Diego's face "Ha! You're as stubborn as your mother you are." He said before he could catch himself.

Almost immediately the atmosphere in the room suffered a transformation: The pleasant warmth replaced by an uneasy silence. They took their cups and books, sitting down in the little living room chairs. Neither one really wanting to bring up the subject.

Finally Diego spoke up: "So...how is she?"

"Happily married" Replied Baltasar.

"...That's....good" Said his father.

"Yeah it's...good" Echoed his son.