Let Me Ruffle Your Fur a Little

There is a bell ringing from the direction of the street. It’s the mailman on a bicycle.

The postbox is outside on the corner of the restaurant next to the entrance. The mailman has put letters inside, then glances up only to see a plump sea otter flipping around inside a pink inflatable pool and brushing his paws together. Then his whiskers twitch a little as he yawns.

The mailman almost falls off his bicycle.

Bai Yao can’t help but smile as he nods to acknowledge the mailman. Then he flicks some of the ash away, and smothers the cigarette before going for the mailbox.

He has several letters, one of which is a postcard.

Bai Yao chuckles as soon as he sees it, then harrumphs as he goes back inside.

Mu Mu’er is curious. Bai Yao isn’t talking about it, so he can’t help but be even more curious about what’s on the thin piece of paper. Is it food? Is Bai Yao going to eat it by himself inside?

After thinking about it, Mu Mu’er climbs onto the side of the pool and vaults over, falling to the ground with a slap. Then he heads for the door with squelch after squelch, leaving behind a long wet trail.

After entering, he first rolls himself across the carpet at the door over and over, drying his fur before going further.

Qi Ya sent the postcard. Right now, he’s tracking and recording the whereabouts of a three-and-a-half year old snow leopard. His mission has been extended beyond the original two weeks mandate. It’s been more than three weeks now.

A few days ago, Qi Ya finally had some time to call Bai Yao. They had a chat, and Qi Ya was complaining about how terrible his food was. He said he was going to enjoy some free meals at Bai Yao’s after the mission is over.

He’s spent over two weeks’ time in tents due to having to follow the snow leopard. The temperature difference gets quite extreme on the tall mountains. Daytime isn’t too bad, but they have to spend the nights huddled up in sleeping bags.

Even in the phone Bai Yao could hear the howling winds, and also Qi Ya’s teeth clattering.

“Don’t freeze your feathers off,” Bai Yao teased him so on the sofa, which was the final straw for Qi Ya to cut his call off.

Snow leopards are vulnerable animals that enjoy Class I protection in China, and conservation efforts mean they need to be constantly monitored. Big cats generally have large ranges, and two weeks is enough time for them to traverse over dozens of kilometres. Qi Ya’s team had a hard time following it.

Snow leopards generally mate between January and April, and the gestation period lasts for approximately three to four months. The conservation agency where Qi Ya is employed gave his team the mission to follow this pregnant female snow leopard to ensure that it gives birth without issue and to keep any poachers away.

This postcard was sent by Qi Ya when their team happened to be able to rest at a civilised location for two days along their way. He said he ‘missed’ him, but Bai Yao suspects he misses his food more than himself.

The postcard’s photograph is a silly-looking snow leopard staring blankly into the camera, biting its own tail, even. The long, fuzzy tail has filled up its mouth, enforcing the round image of the whole snow leopard. It’s like a fluffy ball of snow.

There’s another line written behind the postcard.

[Look who I found! It’s your dad!]

Bai Yao curses with a hearty smile in his mind. Qi Ya, the bastard, heh. Since university, he’s been quite the bellend, the kind that deserves a good trouncing or three every few days or so.

Mu Mu’er, meanwhile, has realised he is standing a bit too short to see what Bai Yao is holding. With no other recourse, he can only transform, and roll himself into the blanket on the back of the chair, and snuggle up to Bai Yao to see what he’s holding.

The wet little head has barged his way in, and Bai Yao lets him in. Since the words probably don’t interest Mu Mu’er much, he flips the postcard around to show him the snow leopard photograph instead.

Mu Mu’er’s eyes brighten up and widen round. He leans close to the photograph and mumbles, “really cute.”

“Soft…” He touches the snow leopard on the photograph, but retracts his head when he feels plastic of the photograph. He turns to ask Bai Yao, “is it soft?”

Bai Yao doesn’t know. He hasn’t ever touched himself when he had transformed into a snow leopard. Actually, just imagining pawing at his own body with his own paws is quite… eh.

Mu Mu’er is tugging at Bai Yao’s hand to bring the postcard closer in order to study the photograph, “tail… long, long tail. Can touch?”

His hair is still dripping wet, leaving water droplets on Bai Yao’s arm.

He sure needs to dry his head more properly if he doesn’t want to get a fever in the breeze. Bai Yao grabs another towel and sits Mu Mu’er down at a table, drying his hair for him.

Mu Mu’er sways a little back and forth alongside Bai Yao’s caressing. He has the postcard in his hand, and he asks, “what is this?”

Bai Yao still recalls the night when he tried to teach Mu Mu’er what a snow leopard is. Great, he doesn’t remember a letter of it. All the talk of ‘snow leopard’ and he only remembered the single syllable for ‘hugging.’

A fiendish smile emerges from his lips as he leans closer to Mu Mu’er and answer, “snow leopards. They eat sea otters.”

The cogs in Mu Mu’er’s brain turns a few times before he registers that he is also a snow leopard, and the fluffy thing in the photograph will eat him. His face pales, and he immediately puts the postcard down on the table, and pushes it further away.

“Don’t… don’t eat Mu’er,” he shakes his head vigorously, “Mu’er tastes bad.”

Mu Mu’er’s hair has grown a little, and soft as it is, puffs up a lot while being dried with a towel, like a little kitty puffing out all its fur.

Bai Yao continues teasing as he moves his hand about deftly, “Mu’er smells very nice. Why would you taste bad?”

This seems to scare Mu Mu’er immensely, and he shakes his head again, “no, no, Mu’er does not smell nice.”

Though Bai Yao suddenly realises there’s a possibility the little sea otter might declare an abstention from all showers in the future, and so reassures him this time, “of course. Yes. Mu’er doesn’t smell nice.”

Mu Mu’er seems to be satisfied with the answer, and quiets down to allow Bai Yao to dry his hair fully.

From the back, Bai Yao can see Mu Mu’er’s white and thin neck. Part of his shoulder blades are visible through the T-shirt.

Bai Yao chuckles as he wonders what a marinated sea otter would taste like.