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Updated: May 2, 2025
At sight of the latter, every individual hair on Fuzzy's spine stood up straight, and with remarks in several different languages he fled to the top of a high-backed chair, where he sat and glared at the enemy. The girls were convulsed with laughter, and the small visitor, abashed, fled to Charlotte and buried his face in her lap.
Tiger and Jack watched him in amazement. "What are you doing?" Tiger said. "Filtering him," Dal said. "He's infected. He must have been exposed to the plague somehow, maybe when our little Bruckian visitor came on board the other day. And if it's a virus that's causing this plague, the virus filter ought to hold it back and still let Fuzzy's molecular structure through."
Dal paused in the main concourse of the building as he saw two such delegations arrive by special car from the port of Philadelphia. "Odd," he said quietly, reaching in to stroke Fuzzy's head. "Quite a gathering of the clans, eh? What do you think? Last time I saw a gathering like this was back at home during one of the centennial conclaves of the Galactic Confederation."
Then he righted it, doing it as Little Fuzzy would have to, and picked up a piece of paper, tossing it in from Little Fuzzy's shoulder height. Then he handed Little Fuzzy a wad of paper and repeated, "Waste ... basket." Little Fuzzy looked at him and said something that sounded as though it might be: "What's the matter with you, Pappy; you crazy or something?"
"I'd have given anything if you had," he choked. "I should have liked to see your face when you came to." "Mean boy!" she said sternly. "You can only pay up for that by thinking of something immediately, before I count five. One, two, three, four " "The tip of Fuzzy's tail," answered Arthur, making a useless grab for the object in question as its small proprietor disappeared up the stairs.
"Tell your friend there to turn the other way before I lose my temper and splatter him all over the wall," he said, pointing to Fuzzy. "All he does is sit there and stare at me and I'm getting fed up with it." Fuzzy drew himself up tightly, shivering on Dal's shoulder. Dal reached up and stroked the tiny creature, and Fuzzy's shoe-button eyes disappeared completely. "There," Dal said.
All Fuzzies carry weapons. A Fuzzy's weapon is still subconsciously regarded as a part of the Fuzzy, hence it must also be buried." Mallin frowned portentously. The idea seemed to appeal to him, but of course he simply couldn't agree too promptly with a mere layman, even the boss. "Well, so far you're on fairly safe ground, Mr. Grego," he admitted.
He could tell by their faces that they realized that he was leaving something out; they had watched him go down to face a blood-thirsty mob, and had seen that mob become docile as lambs as though by magic. Clearly they could not understand what had happened, yet they did not ask him. "So it was Fuzzy's idea to volunteer as a new host for the creatures," Jack said. Dal nodded.
There was only one detail that he concealed. He could not bring himself to tell Tiger and Jack of the true nature of his relationship with Fuzzy, of the odd power over the emotions of others that Fuzzy's presence gave him.
To my knowledge she owns half a horse, and the whole of a very enterprising kitten." Every one laughed, for all knew that Fuzzy's latest escapade had been the theft of a string of sausages which he had proudly brought home untouched to show to his mistress. "It's just as well for me to go before my live stock gets me into trouble," laughed Ruth.
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