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Pawbert knew little about Dawn Bellwether until they began working together at Flockbuster Video as his previous job in his family’s mailroom left him with little time to keep up with current events. All he knew was that she was the embodiment of pure evil, and considering that this information had come directly from his father, that was concerning to him. Despite his family never having any religious affiliation, he remembered holding paws around the table during family dinners as his father prayed for the then-mayor to meet with an unfortunate accident. His father so severely feared her suspected involvement in predators going savage that he requested that Pawbert isolate himself to an oasis in Sahara Square to protect the family, a place that he would often revisit after Bellwether’s arrest.
When Pawbert and his family got arrested, he would find himself in the same prison as the infamous ewe, and every time he saw her, he felt his fur stand on end. The way she lowered her head while staring straight at her environment with a smile that revealed her crooked teeth gave him the feeling that she had planned numerous ways of causing chaos if the security guards lost track of her for one second, a suspicion often proven correct given her reputation for escaping prison.
In spite of this, one trait of Bellwether drew him closer: her wool. Pawbert always had a childish infatuation with balls of yarn well into his adulthood, and the way the puff of wool on her head bobbed up and down as she walked into the cafeteria never failed to capture his attention from afar. On the path back to his cell, he passed her own where he saw her sleeping peacefully in a chair made of her own wool, and he thinks that his paw prints remain on the cell’s plexiglass door to this day. He wanted nothing more than to feel it for himself, and it now stood right next to him.
The store being close to abandoned left the two behind the counter waiting for even the slightest sign of a customer in the long hours of the night. Bellwether rested her crossed arms and chin on the front counter as she stared at the door like that would manifest a reason for her not to clock out early, so Pawbert followed suit right next to her. She would retaliate by moving a few feet away from him, but he would simply adjust accordingly.
“What do you want, Lynxley?” Bellwether asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Pawbert stammered. “I was just, you know, admiring your wool. Looks different than usual.”
He was right. In prison, Bellwether drastically altered her appearance. While the most apparent change would be her puff of wool being dyed purple, she also sheered her arms to get stripes tattooed onto them and pierced her ears for two pairs of earrings. When Pawbert asked about it, she begrudgingly told him that the new look served two purposes. First, it allowed her a bit more anonymity after being mayor put her face all over the media. Second and more important to her, it served to show the world who she was. The awkward, nerdy sheep who had trouble telling the Bug-Burga employee that they handed her the wrong order finally hatched from her cocoon, and in her place stood a feisty, crass, and unpredictable ewe who could make even a rhinoceros swallow at the sight of her. Based on Pawbert’s knowledge, this scenario has never happened, but she personally likes to believe that she could cause it.
Tonight, Bellwether had a new woolstyle. Instead of the previous spherical styling that resembled a cotton swab, her wool curls now jutted out to a tilted flat top with a strand of wool falling over her forehead for Dawn to curl whenever she got bored.
“Of course it looks different,” she responded. “I got it permed earlier today.”
“Ah, that’s the change. It was right on the tip of my tongue, but I was just drawing a blank. Like the shade of blue you chose to dye it this time.”
Bellwether groaned. “It’s indigo.”
“Oh, indigo. You know, I think I had a game console colored that once. Still, you're really working it.”
As Bellwether rolled her eyes, Pawbert remained entranced by her wool. Her new styling made it look more tempting, like he could rest his whole paw on it and just hold it all day. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to squeeze it to know its softness, but every time he reached out, he pulled his arm back.
“Don’t even think about it, Lynxley,” Bellwether growled.
Pawbert clasped his paws together. “Please, it will only be for a moment.”
“No way! It was bad enough letting that fox put his grubby little paw in my wool when he and Judy stopped by my office. I can still smell the popsicle juice of his paws in it.”
Pawbert reached for a nearby sensitizer dispenser and rubbed its contents into his paws. “No grubby little paws here. Please, just for a second. You’ll barely feel it.”
Bellwether sighed. “Will you finally leave me alone?”
“Yes, I will. You’ll never hear me mention it again.”
Bellwether rested her cheek on her hoof and leaned her head towards Pawbert. “Make it quick, Kit Kat.”
Pawbert reached into her wool like it was a bowl of popcorn, and none of his dreams of how soft it was could prepare him for the tangible delight that feeling it was. It felt like a less sticky cotton candy, soft and airy. The more he squeezed it, the more relaxed he felt. He wondered why Bellwether would ever want to leave prison when she lived in a cell covered in this material.
Pawbert shakily exhaled. “So soft. Does your stylist have loose pieces of your wool 'cause I could really use some of it? I’d even be willing to pay for it.”
“Just get your paw out of my wool already,” Bellwether demanded.
Pawbert’ ears sunk. “Oh, of course, thank you.”
He pulled his paw out, but it only made it halfway before stopping. He pulled again, but it remained in place.
“Lynxley, stop stalling, and get your paw out!” Bellwether snapped.
“I’m trying,” Pawbert grunted as he repetitively pulled harder and harder. Soon, he was pulling Bellwether’s head in his direction.
“Hey, stop that!” Bellwether howled.
“Again, I am trying. I think my paw is stuck in your wool.”
“Are you sheeping me?”
“No, and I’m also not shitting you either.”
Bellwether huffed. “God, you see, this is why you never touch a sheep’s wool.”
“Okay, lesson learned. Now what? Want to me to find a pair scissors?”
“Are you nuts, Lynxley? After I paid good money for both the perm and the dyeing? Besides, based on the way you style your whiskers, I doubt you know the first thing about grooming, ironic for a rich pred, if you ask me.”
Pawbert recoiled at the accusation. “Okay, then what do we do now?”
“How should I know? I usually don’t let anyone touch my wool, let alone after a wool appointment. Just let me figure something out, okay? In the meantime, let’s cover a few ground rules, why don’t we? First, I have final say on where we go. You got it? Second, you will not pet or squeeze my wool for the rest of this situation. This is not a vacation for you, Lynxley. Finally, rule number three: if you need to use the bathroom, hold it in!”
“Yeah, I definitely picked a bad day to drink five cups of milk,” Pawbert whispered under his breath.
Bellwether then rapidly clacked away on her phone’s digital keyboard when a wolf entered the store. “Yikes,” she whispered as she slid under the counter. “Why do we only get customers when stuff like this happens? You take care of this woman, Lynxley. I'll find an answer.”
Pawbert nodded as the lady approached the counter holding a VHS tape. “Good evening, miss,” he greeted the customer. “Find everything okay?”
“Yes, I did,” she told him.
After she handed him the tape, Pawbert placed it on the counter before reaching for the barcode scanner. He then searched the top of the VHS box for the barcode until he realized that the back of the box featured it. He then placed the scanner back on the counter, flipped over the box, and then scanned the barcode.
As Pawbert completed the transaction on the computer, the wolf tried to peer over the counter. “Umm, I don’t mean to be rude, but is your right arm okay?” she asked.
Pawbert’s head snapped towards the customer and then to his arm. “Oh, my right arm? Nah, I haven’t been able to use it in years.”
The wolf then placed both of her paws on her chest. “Aww, I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
Bellwether looked up at Pawbert from under the counter. She could not decide whether to worry about him accidentally giving away their situation or to get excited about hearing what wild lie Pawbert would make up on the spot.
“You see, I was six when it happened,” Pawbert began. “I was at recess when I saw the most beautiful classmate, a sheep with the most well-groomed wool you’ve ever seen. Naturally, as a stupid kid, I just had to creep up behind her and start petting her wool. She then responded as any reasonable young woman should by head-butting my arm so hard that the bones pretty much shattered like glass.”
The wolf covered my muzzle. “Oh dear lord, that sounds awful.”
“Yeah, my parents thought so, too. They tried to sue the sheep’s family for the whole ordeal, but we ended up losing the case as me petting her wool could be interpreted as a hate crime. It left my family broke, meaning we couldn’t afford the surgery to fix my arm. I couldn’t finish school, so this was the only job I could land. It’s not the way I wanted my life to be, but I believe that I'm all the better for it. It taught me a valuable lesson.”
“And what is that?”
“Never touch a sheep’s wool.”
Bellwether smiled and nodded her head to Pawbert’s statement. It took every form of willpower within her to keep from popping up and adding “And don’t you forget it, sister!”
Pawbert then reached for a plastic bag for the customer’s tape, but after many attempts, he could not find a way to put the tape inside the bag laid flat on the counter. The wolf then grabbed the bag and shook it open.
“Oh, you’re my hero,” Pawbert told her.
“No, sir, you’re a hero,” the wolf said. “The way you persist in life in spite of your circumstances is nothing short of commendable.”
Pawbert smiled at the woman like he never heard such kind words in his life. “Wow, thank you. Thank you so much for that.” He then handed her bag. “This is due in three days, madame. Have a wonderful night.”
“Thanks, you too.” The wolf waved to him before exiting the store.
Pawbert looked below the counter to lock eyes with Bellwether sporting a shamelessly smug grin. “Bonus points for making your imaginary family dirt poor like they should’ve been in real life,” she told him.
“Did you find anything?” He asked her.
Bellwether looked down at her phone. “Well, I checked a few websites and forum posts, and it seems like the cold is the best way to loosen something out of wool without damaging it.”
“Well, if this were Tundratown, we could just go out into the back. What should we do?”
Bellwether shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but I’ve got an idea.”
With the break room’s freezer opened up towards Bellwether’s head, both Pawbert and her began pulling away from each other.
“Keep pulling, “ Bellwether grunted. “I think I can feel it getting looser.”
“Uhh, I don’t know, Dawn,” Pawbert admitted. “Your wool still feels a little—”
“Just keep pulling, Lynxley!”
The two continued pulling harder and harder. Suddenly, with a loud tear, the two separated with so much force that they both hit the floor.
As Pawbert got to his feet, he looked at the paw that got stuck on Bellwether and made a disturbing discovery: it was covered entirely in indigo wool. As he looked over to Bellwether, he saw a bald patch on her hand in the shape of his paw. His ears drooped as he grimaced at his co-worker.
“What?” Bellwether asked him.
Pawbert could only continue to stare at her.
“What?”
“Okay, let’s just look on the bright side,” Pawbert said to her. “You are going to save so much on shampoo.”
The following evening, Pawbert remained transfixed on the front door of the shop, waiting for Bellwether to arrive. As he did so, he sporadically looked down at his right paw. While the wool fell off, his paw pads still contained a hint of indigo. Pawbert could not help but smile at it, a reminder of the honor to finally feel Dawn Bellwether’s famous wool. If he somehow had kids given his social status, he knew that he would more likely tell his children about the previous night’s events than recall the time he attempted four murders within a few minutes to find a centuries old paper.
Soon, Bellwether walked into the store with a completely new wool style: none at all. She sheared her entire head, and Pawbert gauged by her scorn expression that she did not like choosing this look for herself.
“Evening, Dawn,” Pawbert awkwardly greeted her.
Bellwether did not say anything, choosing instead to let her knitted eyebrows and subtle frown do the talking.
“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened last night. Believe me when I say that I will touch a sheep’s wool ever again, but if there’s ever any good to come out of this, you’re a lot harder to recognize when your head’s all shorn.”
“You owe me fifty bucks for the perming and dyeing that I only got a day’s worth out of,” Bellwether finally told him before heading over to clock in for her shift.
“Still worth it,” Pawbert told himself.