Pets of Ponyville

Owlowiscious used his occasional daylight waking hours to good effect. He frolicked with the ponies and their pets at the playdates, he studied any books that caught his fancy, cleaned, and observed the ways and habits of the population of Ponyville. And he also had to handle...

“Hey! Hey! What's going on? What's happening? What's up, filly? Spike says that! He says that a lot and sometimes they don't get mad at him! Why do the mares get mad? Why don't they want to go with Spike? He wants to take them to eat! Eating is great. I love eating. Fish and stuff is super good and there's always some. Can we get fish?” Peewee the phoenix chick. A thousand terathaums of energy in a package barely bigger than the egg that had held him.

“Peewee. How do you manage to contain such exuberant energy within such a diminutive frame? And how is it that you were found to be such a match with Spike? One would almost suspect you were Pinkie Pie in phoenix form.” Owlowiscious shook his head and contemplated his young ward.

“I dunno! I'm just really, really fired up all the time! At least that's what Spike says. And he knows. He's a dragon.” Peewee beamed up at the older bird, his giant head making the smile even more adorable.

“Indeed... indeed. Well, Peewee, I can tell you this much: Spike is attempting to get to know these mares. Very well. He desires a... relationship with one. At least I hope it is with one. And the only way to meet new folk is to make contact. But all my study has shown that this is often an inexact science. There are a multitude of ways one may be joined. And while not all are ideal they suffice for they that experience them.”

Peewee flitted about around Owlowiscious, looking as though he hadn't heard a word the owl had said. “You use big words a lot! Was that an answer? I didn't get it. Why is Spike always talking to mares that don't like him when he wants them to like him?”

“Perhaps it would benefit if I were to take you around the town and show you what I mean. An educational experience; like a sort of field trip. It would do us both a world of good. I should get out of the library now and then. Fresh air is most beneficial. Come along, Peewee.” Owlowiscious flapped over to the window, unlatching it and flying out, with Peewee in quick but adorably-awkward pursuit.

They winged their way across Ponyville, looking down on the bustling and active community as it flew past beneath them. None of the ponies ever looked up, though they saw Angel and Opal lounging out in post-coital delight on the roof of Carousel Boutique, and they both waved, in a slightly distant and vacant fashion. Owlowiscious declined to comment on them; while romance was the heart of their relationship, lust formed the woody sheath around that heart, and such carnality was not for Peewee's ears quite yet.

They alit on an overgrown tree branch that reached out towards a metal-meshed window with decorative wrought ironwork on the outside, sufficient to prevent using the window as a way of getting in or out of the room into which the window was set, even if it was open. That room was a bland, bare white space with walls and floor made of cloth, containing a bed and nothing much else, save for a pair of figures.

One was a mare, a grayish and older figure with mussed mane, wearing two pairs of slippers and a white robe. She was panting, not unlike Winona did on hot days, and occasionally made little canine-like vocalizations that did not actually mean anything. She was pressed up against the other figure in the room, a tall, strong-looking brown stallion with a tight, close-cropped mane. He had a belt loaded with equipment suitable for constable work, and wore a blue shirt with buttons. The two earth ponies looked very close.

The stallion spoke, softly, as though believing he was under observation from figures that were not avian in nature. “I know you like when I come here. But I... I can't do this. I don't... I don't want you to get too used to me. I want to be here for you. But you're... here. And it's wrong for me to feel this way about you. Not because you act like a dog. But because you're a pony. And can't tell me you want me with you.”

“Hoo. How unexpected. I find at this time of day that that guard is usually quieter and merely lets that mare be his companion. Now he seems to be backing away because she cannot respond.”

“But why are we here? What does this have to do with anything? I asked about Spike and mares, not about the crazy barking pony lady.”

“This in an aspect of affection, a facet of the relationship between others. Here is a tragedy. That guard fell in love with that mare. She has not the guile to put on airs and affectations like other mares. She is what she is. As you say, a crazy, barking pony. Her affection is pure. Too pure. It is all implied. No one may be in a relationship with a pony or other thinking being judged insane. On other days he only sat and thought, while she leaped about him and occasionally gave canine-kisses. It has gone on as long as I have been aware, since the first time I sat upon this branch and looked in on their lives.”

Peewee actually slowed his energetic flying, looking thoughtful as all the words were digested. “So... does Spike have to try and find a crazy mare? Because Twilight and Pinkie are crazy.”

“My caretaker and Pinkie are both bonded so tightly no force on Equestria or beyond could ever cast them asunder. But that is not the point. My young charge, I mean that Spike is trying to meet someone whom he can trust, as that guileless mare. But he must take care that he finds a mare the law will not restrict from him.” Owlowiscious looked down on the scene again, his normally-inscrutable eyes clouding a touch. “Come along, Peewee. Let us leave them. Tragedy should never be shared without consent.”

The two avians flew over Ponyville once more, noting the slightly-more-populated streets as the sun passed its zenith and midday chores gave way to afternoon loitering and playdates after foals had gotten out of school.

Owlowiscious came down on Celestia's statue, perching on the princess' head, while Peewee chose her horn. They were looking at the various passing ponies and on a knot of six that were there to stay for a while. They were all female, an unsurprising collection; four mares and two fillies. The four mares laid on two adjacent benches, looking at the two fillies playing. On one, the farmer Carrot Top, with her wife Ditzy the mailmare pressed up close beside her. On the other bench local orthodontist with her wife Berry Punch. The two couples watched over their foals, the unicorns Dinky Doo and Berry Pinch.

“Love, with the damaged. Not profoundly. Not impossible to overcome. But with harm to one side. See there, Ditzy Doo. She has lived all her life with a wild talent, born with a natural magical skill unsuited to her race. Pinkie has the same, she detects mana trace that is translated by her earth pony body into twitches that tell of local conditions. Ditzy reads interpersonal traces the same way, her eyes affected by the lack of a horn to properly route the mana flow.” Owlowiscious swept his wing from Ditzy to Berry. “An alcoholic. Born with a deadly thirst deep in her body. She fought as hard as she could, and now is winning the fight with the aid of her family.”

“Wow! You're even better at gossip than Rarity is! How do you know so much stuff? Know anything else? What about them? Do they have secrets? Do they? Huh? Gossip with me!”

“Peewee.” Owlowiscious sternly fluffed his feathers and took on a commanding tone. “I am a gentlebird. I am endeavoring to educate and edify that you may, in the fullness of time, be the same for the long period of your life and rebirths, avoiding the ways of Philomina. Princesses' phoenix though she may be she is still a poor role model. Now, pay attention please. I was explaining something important.”

Peewee shot up straighter, even if his chunky body made that hard to notice. “Alright. I'll listen.”

“The hurt, the battered, the damaged need a special kind of love and understanding. A combination of gentleness and rigidity. Not coddled, not ignored. The greatest, clearest show of the great balancing act that is love. Spike must balance his flexibility with a certain firmness. He may not wish a mare of that sort. But if he finds one and finds he fancies her he will need guidance to walk the narrow middle lane.”

Peewee turned his head curiously, his manic energy seeming to melt away under the pall of confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Rather than answer, Owlowiscious flapped away, his face unusually stern and set. He led the way from the central area of Ponyville out into the fertile farmland just outside of it. Along the way they encountered Winona in a free moment. She appeared, at first, to be alone, but careful observation showed a green figure clinging to her back. Gummy noted his own observation and waved his tail. His canine lover did not notice, her crazed energy allowing her to see only what was ahead.

They made it to the barn area of Sweet Apple Acres, which was occupied at that time. There was a large table set up in front of the barn, containing a twisted collection of pipes and glassware, along with several small burners and many, many containers of plant matter, discarded animal bits and oddly-colored liquids. At the table were Applebloom and Zecora, both wearing lab coats and goggles.

“See, Zecora? Ah borrowed all this stuff from missus Cheerilee so's ah could show ya that ah knew how ta make that tooth potion too. It ain't the way ya showed me but ah think it still works.”

Zecora chuckled pleasantly and ruffled Applebloom's mane. “I do not down that this is true;/ It's not the equipment, it is you.”

Applebloom beamed proudly in her usual way, hooves twisting various knobs and pouring concoctions into the connected and heated containers. “Ah'm doin' mah best. Ah've gotta learn all the stuff in school PLUS what y'all 're teachin' me. Granny says ah may not need ta go ta college 'cause ah'm gonna have a big ol' head stuffed with all this leanin'.”

“Oh no my love, you must be college-bound./ Do not let yourself be shackled to this ground.”

“Ah dunno... ah thought ah could stay here, get mah reputation fer farmin' and herbs 'n' such an' jes live here 'r in the forest with ya once we get ourselves hitched.”

“But Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are aiming at the university./ Why let them go off on their own just on account of me?”

“Ah can't think of anywheres else ah'd rather be than by yer side once ah have that chance.” Applebloom blushed a bit, and nuzzled at Zecora's throat. “We can be good 'n' happy here, an' still make a good livin' together.”

“Spike... is a teenager. A teenager of about her age if not more. That is why he finds it so desperate and necessary to try and court a mare. His body is screaming for him to find a target for affection. That is not the proper response. He must not seek mere slaking, like the movies he pretends he does not own or in the books he says he does not read. He must seek a love that has the warmth of affection, a spark of passion, but a coolness that will let it persist for many a year. He will last longer than any mare he may find, especially as he seeks one now, in his teens. He must ensure it will last every second allotted.” Owlowiscious spoke to the air, looking at the heartwarming scene rather than at Peewee.

“Why are you telling me this? I really don't get it.” Peewee hopped around his mentor, looking up at him and blinking in confusion.

“I was there. I saw nothing. I did nothing. I guided no one.” Owlowiscious stared past the scene before him. “When Twilight was so confused, when she did not know that Pinkie was her one, true love, she resorted to... something terrible. In the end she did not. But she could have. I did nothing at all to stop her. And it haunts me to this day.” He turned his head nearly all the way around, his eyes moist with tears. “I do not want the mistakes of the past to meet the new generation. You have some subtle control of Spike. You may direct his attention, affect his mood, and do all you may to make certain he walks the right path.”

The energetic little phoenix's mind was forever making connections between the airiest subjects, often seeming to be missing the point, when he was already a hundred topics ahead. “What about you? Don't you have anyone? You're always all alone at night.”

“I... think the lesson is over. You understand the wisdom I wished to impart. Spike must be directed carefully. Led away from bad mares, led to the good. Those suited to him. Now... be on your way as you will. I have someplace I must be.” Owlowiscious took off with a tremendous flap of wings, attracting the notice of the filly and mare.

Because of the current state of interpersonal relationships around Ponyville, it was a very short flight from the farm to Rainbow Dash's cloud manor. Owlowiscious dodged around the rainbow waterfall, which emptied into a tank for collection and recycling into the manor's reservoir. Rainbow Dash herself was out, either helping her fiancee with applebucking, competing with her, or playing their usual game of “Which tree is that blasted pegasus sleeping in this time?” But the home was not unoccupied.

Within the open living room, lounging on a fluffy cloud ottoman, was Tank, in his aeronaut gear. His carapace and plastron had been enchanted with a long-acting version of the cloud-walking spell, regularly reapplied to keep it strong and present. Owlowiscious, being a bird, did not require such. He simply flew down to the cloud couch and perched, looking at Tank's goggled face. “Do you know, how it is you never get a word in?”

Tank's head turned slowly towards the owl interrogating him. He then gave a slow shake, not wanting to chance his luck with speech.

“Because I know what you will say. I know all too well. Oh yes. I have always known. You are as transparent as your carapace is opaque.” His feathery face fell, his wings drooping. “And I, well... I am as cowardly as the night is cold and the day is glaring. What fiend would I be, to make an ectotherm such as you suffer ever under the chilling light of the moon. Even full there is no warmth to pull you from torpidity. I know how cold the night may be. I would not drag you into it. And I... two weeks to prepare for a single day in the sun. What would I be, but a shadow in your way?”

Tank activated his propeller and zipped from the ottoman to the couch, landing with a soft fluff of the material. He turned off the device and settled in comfortably. At long last, he had a chance to speak. “You talk too much.”

Owlowiscious said nothing, finally struck silent by the laconic statement. He had no proper response, save to take to the wing and land shortly after, perching atop Tank's talon-proof shell with a truly contented, 'whoo.'