Be My Valentine
Be My Valentine - a short, romantic tale. Buckley is a failed Novelist, whose supported and loved by Dr. Fawne, his beloved Whitetail Doe wife and soul mate. He is lost and bewildered, upset to the point of tears - knowing he has only a limited budget, to find the perfect gift for her for Valentines day - his ultimate choice - is unconditional, as it is unexpected...
Be My Valentine?
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
9th July, 2019
All Rights Reserved.
Nervously, Buckley wrung his black furred paws together, as the timid kangaroo stood in the centre of the mall. People; humans and anthromorph's flowed like a river around the rock that was the quivering kangaroo buck. His ears twitched too and fro, as he whined, low and quietly.
His stress levels were dangerously high, as he swallowed and thought. He didn't have a lot of money - this was his greatest failing he thought to himself. With valentines day tomorrow - his fear and anxiety grew, as he struggled to imagine what his beloved would love for this most romantic of days.
His beloved...
Fawne, was the bread winner in their household.
Fawne worked as a Doctor, having trained for years, and owned their shared house outright. Her income supported both her and he, keeping them modestly comfortable and acclimatised to the 'higher ends' of societal life.
He on the other paw?
He was a failed novelist. Oh, he'd had a few books published, a bare handful scraping the bottom of the literary barrel in top one hundred... When sales were about a hundred books out of ten thousand printed - and the reviews come back bitter and scathing - it crushed his ego mercilessly. He scraped by on the pittance royalties that come from the few novels he'd sold.
Now, he faced his fear - fighting to keep its jaws from closing around his throat - as it always did every Valentines Day. Fawne kept telling him, she didn't want anything - just to know he loved her, and she loved him, made it special in her eyes.
Oh, how he wished he could believe that!
*
Her parents had looked down at him, ten years ago, when she had introduced them to him. They had told him, when he was alone with them, to walk away. They looked down at him with derision and apathy. Him? A failed Novelist? Not even born into the right social circles? He thought he could marry their daughter?
That night, when he got home, he'd cried heart brokenly for hours - so traumatised and upset had he been.
Their wedding...
Her father pulled him aside behind the church, looked in straight in the eye, man to man. Buckley had been shaking so bad, he swore he'd come apart. He looked up at the Stag, who towered above him, then swallowed, enduring the tirade the Cervine unleashed upon his young head. Eventually, the Stag's diatribe ran down, and he pulled out a cheque and handed it over.
"Son, one time offer - I'll write any god damned number you want on that, if you walk the fuck away, and forget about my daughter..."
Gazing down at the cheque in his paws, Buckley shivered...
Suddenly, without warning, something in him snapped...
He'd grown a spine - where it come from? He didn't know, he'd been polite, respectful and honest - spoke from the heart - when he said he didn't give a damn what either parent thought of him, his upbringing, or his side of the family.
What they cared about him? Was nothing. He said their love was pure and sweet, and he pledged his life and his love to her, and she to him. When they married, it was to be all about her - her special day....
He'd torn the cheque to pieces, in front of the Stag, letting the pieces flutter to the ground, before he turned and walked inside the church.
He remembered the night fondly, as he stood before the altar, trembling and panting in fear. He had gotten on his knee and begged the love of his life to marry him. She had laughed and cried, saying 'yes' - it had been the happiest day of his life.
Now, he stood before the altar watching her march down the aisle in that expensive wedding dress - his heart wept in joy, the tears sliding down his muzzle and dripping onto the expensive rented tuxedo.
He couldn't help himself...
*
He sniffled, then wiped his eyes with his forearms - a distinctly feral-like gesture he'd never been able to beak. He sniffled again and wiped his eyes with the back of his paws. Nervously, he wandered the mall for hours - torn with his fear and indecision. He had to buy her something- anything - flowers? No, they were too passe, chocolates? He couldn't remember if chocolate was deadly to deer. He knew it was to kangaroos.
A card? No. A day at a spa....he was kidding himself, it'd cost five years of his pittance in earnings, to afford _that_for her, as much as he wished. Her credit card in his wallet felt like it was made of granite, so heavy did it feel. He vowed he wouldn't use it - he _couldn't_use it - that was her money, and this, her valentines present, he would pay for himself.
Finally, almost at closing time, he had been sitting alone on a bench for hours, his head in his paws and the quiet sobs wracking his body. People had seen him crying - most looked on with pathetic disgust - a grown buck crying like a lost joey? Others looked at him with compassion - but none come to give him a hug, or a comforting word - nobody cared...
Finally, he made a decision - looking across the way, an idea come to him, and he sniffled, drying his eyes again, before he stood and nervously made his way into the store...
*
Next morning, as Fawne prepared their vegetarian breakfast, Buckley prepared her Valentines present. He squirmed and giggled nervously, praying his gesture would be loved and appreciated - it was all he could afford - really. As Fawne's soft clip-clop of her cloven hooves come to him, her humming some favourite tune of hers, he whined softly and laid on the bed, adjusting certain things, then smiled sweetly as Fawne backed into the bedroom.
"Happy Valentines my beloved - " Buckley giggled.
Fawne turned around, then blinked and the breakfast tray fell from her limp paws, crashing onto the bed then falling to the floor, making a mess. Her eyes widened as her muzzle fell open in shock and surprise as she stood there, staring...
Laying on their bed, wearing nothing but a bow tie around his furred throat, above which was a leather collar, and a lead rope had been affixed to it, him holding the leash about three-quarters past the hand grip on it. A small card, written in his writing, was affixed to the collar.
Nervously, he crept across the bed, then knelt at her feet, looking up, holding his paws in a begging gesture, smiling up at her. She blinked, then plucked the card and held it, reading it quietly.
My beloved Fawne, will you be my Valentine?
Love
Buckley.
Dropping the card, she burst into tears, grabbing him by the nape and pulling him tight against her belly, as she sobbed helplessly, holding him tight, his head pulled against her stomach.
"Yes, oh yes, my dear, sweet buck - I will, I promise!" Fawne wept. "I will..."
END