“Pa, where we goin’?” Applejack asked her father, the little filly bouncing up and down on his backside.
Applejack’s father grunted, nearly misplacing a hoof. “Easy there, Applejack. My back ain’t what it used to be.”
“But Pa, I wanna know where we’re goin’,” Applejack whined, resting on her father’s back with a disgruntled frown on her face. “I’m bored.”
“Ya ain’t doin’ no chores in the meantime, so be glad I have the time to take ya on this trip,” her father replied calmly. “Besides, it’s only been five minutes.”
“Five minutes of boredom!” Applejack said. Ever since the two had left the farm Applejack was forced to an awful, simply torturous existence of sitting on her father’s back listening to him humming a jolly tune as they made their way to who knows where.
Her father just rolled his eyes, continuing his trot at his tediously slow pace, as usual. Applejack wanted to hurry up and get to wherever her Pa was walking to, but the large stallion would have none of it. Slow and steady was his way to go, and Applejack was forced to follow that while using him as a piggy-back. “Who knows how much longer that boredom can last? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Forever?”
“Now yer just bein’ over-dramatic. Do you good for a smidgin of patience every once in a while.” Her father glanced over his shoulder to her, a good-natured smile on his broad, strong-jawed face. “Besides, look at yer brother. Colt’s got more patience than an apple past ripeness on a branch.”
“That’s ‘cause Big Mac can watch paint dry and not be bored from it,” Applejack said, huffing. “I can’t do that, Pa.”
“Don’t need to, Applejack. We’re nearly there, youngin’, just keep yer hat on.”
Applejack tapped the top of her mane. “But Pa, I ain’t got no hat.”
Applejack’s father tipped his stenson to fall, catching it in his mouth and turned his neck to place it atop Applejack’s head, where it fell over and covered the smaller filly’s face. “Well, there ya go, now that sayin’ actually has meanin’ fer ya.”
Applejack hugged the hat over her head with all her might, the entire thing about half as big as her. “Wow, ya mean it, Pa? I get to keep yer hat?”
“Sure, I got a million of them. Now shush, we’re here.”
Excited, Applejack wiggled out of the hat’s embrace to peek out to see an old, run-down shack barely held together by the rusty nails supporting it. It leaned to one side and looked like it hadn’t gotten a fresh coat of paint since Granny Smith was a filly.
“This is the big surprise ya were gonna show me?” Applejack asked, grimacing at the mere sight of the shack in massive disrepair.
“Nah, the surprise is inside,” her father explained, a rare quickening in his step appearing as they neared the shack.
“That ain’t really makin’ me feel much better, Pa,” Applejack said, casting a skeptical look at the ominous shack.
“Ah, nothin’ to worry ‘bout, Applejack,” her father assured her, unloading her on the ground and fixing her stenton so she could see. “Yer Uncle Crabapples lives here.”
“Uncle Crabapples?” Applejack asked, pulling her hat back over her ears. “Why ain’t I ever heard of him before?”
“He ain’t really… that social,” her father said, scratching the back of his neck. “But he’s a good stallion at heart. And he’s got a special suprise fer ya.”
“Dagnabit! Tardar, I told ya not to get on the couch!” a voice bellowed from inside the shack, which was then followed by barking and yips.
“I dunno if I’ll like this surprise, Pa,” Applejack said, hiding behind her father’s leg.
“Come on now, Applejack, ya ain’t gonna regret it.” Applejack’s father picked up his daugher with a hoof and opened up the door with another. “Hey, Crabapple, your big brother and niece are here!”
The inside of the shack wasn’t much of an improvement than the outside. It was barely bigger than the dining room back at Applejack’s house, and fitting in a full-sized table in there was out of the question. The only furniture was a couch that had lost its original color many years ago to be replaced with various stains of ambiguous origins and a refrigerator in the back corner that had definitely seen better days. Tattered posters stuck to the walls and a single light bulb hung from overhead to provide dim illumination to the pathetically small living space. Oh, and there was a rug in the center of the room that really tied the place together.
Crabapple turned around, greeting the two with a scowl. Much like his older brother, Crabapple sported an orange coat, though his was darker, while his mane was a dark shade of red while Applejack’s father’s was bright yellow.
“Bushel and Applejack?” Crabapple asked. He shifted his gaze furtively side to side, whispering, “I don’t owe you guys any bits, do I?”
“No, brother, I just dropped by fer that special surprise ya promised my lil Applejack here,” Bushel said, pushing Applejack forward. “Go on, Applejack, say hi.”
Stumbling, Applejack stood tall, only for her hat to cover her eyes again. Pulling it up, she asked, “Are ya really my Pa’s brother?”
“Applejack, that’s not how we introduce ourselves to family,” Bushel scolded her.
“Eh, don’t get your britches in bundle, brother, the filly’s just curious is all.” Crabapple brushed his chest and directed a confident smile to Applejack. “Why, yessiree, I am undoubtedly the blood-relative of this here stallion who ya call Pa. Though, back in my day he was called ol’ Sour Apple, on account that he—”
“That’s enough,” Bushel interrupted.
Crabapple’s smile turned into a devious smirk. “What? I was just gonna say ya didn’t know a good time if bit ya on the behind.”
“Oh really, comin’ from the stallion whose nickname is Crabby?” Bushel said, both stallions glaring at one another.
Applejack waved her hoof in between them, breaking their focus. “Uh, Pa, Uncle Crabby, am I gonna get that surprise or not? It smells like rotten onions in here.”
“Fine, fine, I’m gettin’ it,” Crabapple said, going to the corner of the room where a box was hidden behind the couch. “She didn’t get her patience from our side of the family, that’s fer sure.”
“Ah, she’ll grow into it, just like with her hat,” Bushel said with a chuckle.
Applejack took a few steps forward as Crabapple deposited the cardboard box before her. Inside, that barking could be heard from before.
Looking into the box, Applejack’s eyes widened. About half a dozen puppies were inside, wiggling and rolling atop one another as most stood on their hind legs to look up at Applejack.
“Puppies!” Applejack squealed, hopping eagerly as many of the puppies reached out to lick her freckled face. “Pa, Pa, it’s a box fulla puppies!”
“Yeah, that’s the surprise, Applejack. Ya get to pick one out and keep it,” Bushel said, smiling fondly as his daughter giggled from the constant puppy tongue lashings. “Ya need a work dog fer when yer older,” Bushel explained, “which is why we’re here. Crabapple is leavin’ town and needs to unload these pupsters, and I knew just the filly in mind to get one.”
“Do ya mean it, Pa? I really get to have a puppy?” Applejack asked, her eyes shining.
“Why sure, as long as ya can take care of it. Big responsibility to raise a dog. It’s both a pet and yer best friend in the entire world,” Bushel reminded her. “Ya gots to feed it, walk it, potty train it, clean up after it, train it, and can’t forget ‘bout—”
“But I still get to keep a puppy, right?” Applejack beamed her father a cheerful grin.
Chuckling, he patted her head and said, “Yeah, yeah, yer gonna keep one. Just gotta pick the lucky dog out is all.”
“Might wanna make it quick, too,” Crabapple mentioned, shifting side to side on his hooves. “Gotta blow outta town soon, and I’d rather not stay to meet up anyone. They’re border collies, so ya can trust that type of breed to be loyal and nice and blah, blah, blah. Just pick one out.”
Applejack upturned the box of puppies, quickly being overwhelmed in a tide of wet noses, licking tongues and fury bodies. “Stop, stop, that tickles!” Applejack laughed, rolling on the floor as the puppies crowded around her. Most were a mix of white a black fur, while the odd brown furred one could be seen, all covered in a healthy amount of hair and flappy ears.
“So, brother, where ya headed off to?” Bushel asked, Applejack’s pleas for mercy remaining ignored.
“Manehatten. Start off fresh, new faces, brand spankin’ new start,” Crabapple said, wiping off a sheen of sweat from his forehead. “I just gotta get out of town without no sneaky eyes on my back.”
“Ya haven’t been into any hoodlum business ‘round these parts and decided to skip town to avoid trouble, have ya?” Bushel asked, poking his brother in the chest with a strong hoof.
Crabapple barked out a feeble chuckle, waving his hoof in the air nonchalantly. “Me, in trouble? Bushel, ya just gotta relax, brother. I ain’t in no trouble. I’m just… transferring some assets of my reimbursed business to a new priority location for better future investments is all.”
“Ya gonna stop flabbin’ yer whistle ‘bout this business mumbo-jumbo and tell me what’s really goin’ on?” Bushel asked with an arched brow, face completely unamused.
Gulping, Crabapple scooted past Bushel’s judgemental glare and went to Applejack’s side. “Well, Applejack, ya found the pup meant fer you or what?”
“But they’re all so wonderful,” Applejack said, sitting back up as the puppies scampered around her, begging for more attention. “I can’t make up my mind.”
“Now sweetheart, I know a choice like this can be difficult,” Crabapple said, sitting beside Applejack and resting a hoof on her shoulder. “Yer basically choosin’ the most trusted companion ya can ever depend on. Dogs aren’t called a pony’s best friend fer nothin’, ya know. And fer such an important life choice, ya needn’t be hasty or choose unwisely now.” Crabapple picked up the nearest puppy at hoof and dropped it in Applejack’s lap. “Which is why I chose fer ya. Have fun with whatever-it’s-name-is.”
“But Uncle Crabby, that ain’t no way to pick a puppy,” Applejack complained, the dog in her lap staring at the wall with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, completely oblivious to the two.
Crabapple rubbed a hoof across his face and groaned. “And that’s not my name, but we all have to make sacrifices, now don’t we?”
“Pa!”
“Crabapple!” her father said, chiding his brother with a stern look.
“Fine, fine, rest yer hindquarters,” Crabapple said, getting up and backing away from Applejack and the puppies. “I’ll let her make a decision. Just be quick ‘bout it.”
Applejack clopped her hooves together in glee, then surveyed her choices. A rich variety in puppy possibilities were spread out before her, many of them on their backs begging for belly rubs, while others played and tumbled on the floor, biting and nipping each other as puppies usually did in their games.
However, there was one puppy in particular that was left out of the group. It was usually pushed to the side by the others whenever it wanted to play, and then it tried to scamper up to Applejack to lick her face, its siblings shoved it out of the way. The poor pup still tried, though, trying to jump its way past the others to reach Applejack on its own.
Standing up, Applejack stepped over the other puppies and approached the lonesome puppy. It was a collie, much smaller than the others, with a brown coat of fur on the top half of its body and white along its belly and front of it snout. It wagged its white and brown tail as Applejack drew closer, standing on its hind legs and barking at her.
Applejack patted the top of the puppy’s head, it wagging its tail gleefully in response while it licked Applejack’s muzzle in wet, sloppy puppy-kisses.
“Good girl, good girl,” Applejack laughed, the puppy unrelenting in its licking.
“Wait, how’d ya know it was a she?” Crabapple asked, sharing a confused look with Bushel.
“Because she looks like one,” Applejack explained, now rubbing the puppy’s tummy as its right leg kicked out repeatedly to show her approval.
“Well, ya don’t want her anyhow. She’s the runt of the litter,” Crabapple said, shaking his head. “The weakest and most helpless in the group. Doesn’t make fer a proper work dog at all.”
“But I like her,” Applejack said, hugging the puppy close as it reached out with its paws for Applejack’s chest. “She’s sweet and cuddly.”
“Oh fer…” Crabapple sighed deeply, rubbing his temple. “They’re all sweet and cuddly. Just pick one that’s actually gonna be useful fer farm life.”
“Best listen to what yer Uncle says, Applejack. If she’s a runt, she ain’t gonna be much use to us,” Bushel said.
“But Pa, she ain’t have to be useful. She just has to be my friend.” Applejack placed her hat on the puppy’s head. The puppy ran around in circles yipping and barking, finally dislodging the hat and tackling it, biting it with her short teeth. “Ya said yourself this dog is gonna be my friend, and a friend doesn’t have to be useful, they just gotta be yer friend.” Applejack pointed to Crabapple and said, “And Uncle Crabby, ya said dogs are a pony’s best friend. Well, how’s my puppy supposed to be my best friend if I only care if she’s gonna be useful or not?”
Crabapple opened his mouth, closed it, stared at Applejack for a few seconds, then smirked. Glancing sideways at Bushel, he said, “Well, well, big brother, looks like ya raised yer kin mighty fine. Mighty fine indeed.”
Bushel nodded. “Well, I can’t take all the credit. Her mother puts more legwork than me anyhow.”
“Well, if ya think ya can raise that runt to be a proper mutt, then I don’t see why ya can’t have her,” Crabapple said. “Consider her yers.”
The noise leaving Applejack’s incredibly large, grinning mouth could only be described as a mix between a shout of victory, squeal of incredibly happiness, and yell of approval. Applejack lifted up the lucky puppy and wrapped her in her forelegs, hugging and laughing as the puppy licked her face, almost as if she knew she had won.
Crabapple cracked a grin at the overly-cute spectacle of the special union between owner and pet. “Well, if that ain’t the most—dagnabit, Tardar, not the couch again!” Crabapple shouted, throwing his hooves up in exasperation. “Ya already ruined it with yer damnable scratchin’! How am I gonna get reimbursed if ya keep on damagin’ it?”
On the couch lay a cat with a grumpy expression on her face, the obvious conclusion being that she was Tardar. Lifting up a paw, claws jumped out of their sheaths, and with a single fluid motion Tardar ripped open the couch cushion.
“Agh, not again!” Crabapple bemoaned, pulling at his mane as he fell to the floor. “Every time, Tardar, every time!”
“Pa, is that cat the reason why Uncle Crabby has a cutie mark of an unhappy cat’s face?” Applejack asked, pointing to Crabapple’s mark.
Lifting both Applejack and the puppy on his shoulders, Bushel rolled his eyes at Crabapple’s complaints. “Nah, Applejack, that itself is another story entirely.”
“Does it have somethin’ to do with the burn mark ya got on yer leg?”
“Eh… somewhat. I’ll tell ya when yer older.” Opening the door of the shack, Bushel looked back and waved farewell to his brother, saying, “Well, I’ll be seein’ ya, brother! Don’t be a stranger now, ya hear? I’m expectin’ yer crabapple delights at the next family reunion.”
“Only if I get first dibs at Ma’s apple pie!” Crabapple said, as he was struggling to dislodge his cat Tardar from his couch.
Finally starting on the trek back home, Bushel glanced once or twice over his shoulder to catch quick looks at Applejack cuddling with her new puppy, who had decided now was a good time to take a nap in her owner’s lap, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of Bushel’s hoofsteps.
“So, Applejack, ya got a name figured out fer her yet?” Bushel asked.
“I was thinkin’ somethin’ like… Apple Pup,” Applejack said, tapping her chin while her stenson once more fell over her eyes. “Or maybe Apple Dog sounds better? We could always call her Apple Mutt if I can’t decide. Or would Apple Collie be a better idea?”
“Uh… how ‘bout somethin’ a bit more original?” Bushel suggested. “Like, how ‘bout Winona?”
“But Pa, that ain’t a pony name!”
“Applejack, she’s a dog, not a pony.”
Applejack blinked. “Oh yeah. Well, Winona is good ‘nough fer me!” Applejack cuddled up closer to Winona, the puppy licking Applejack in her sleep. “We’re gonna be the best of friends! We’re gonna go buck apples, herd sheep, go on adventures, play pranks on Big Mac, play in the mud…”
Bushel hummed a jolly tune under his breath as Applejack went on and on about the future for her and Winona, the small puppy sleeping in the comforting lap of her new master and friend.
Author's Note
Yep, that's Uncle Crabby. I dunno, he has the same colors as Babs Seed, so I thought he'd be related to the Apple Family. Hamfisting, go, go, go!
