Percy's Life Part 1 - The Mighty Caterpillar
Copyright 2017 by Simplemind

So far, my life has been a pretty exciting journey with many ups and downs. It has not always been easy and I went through some hard times, but there are also some very amazing things that happened to me. Today I'm going to tell you a bit about it. But first I should introduce myself! Well, I am Percy. Percival Gramen, to be exact, but everyone just calls me Percy. Now, let's start at the beginning. The very beginning: My birth.

My mother is Evelyn Gramen and my father is Jerrad Gramen. Both are red foxes, and so am I. Though, I'm not quite like them, but we'll get to that part in a moment. Anyway, I was a wanted child, even if it doesn't seem like it from the outside. My mother had told me how excited she was, and my dad too, when they found out that she was pregnant. Apparently he was very happy about becoming a father.

My birth happened really fast, as my mom would later tell me. She went into labor a few days before the due date. At that time my father was at work and a good friend of my mom watched over her and drove her into the hospital. My dad got a call and rushed to meet up with his wife.

Everything happened in a flash and I was born shortly before my father arrived. It was one of the fastest births the doctor had seen, he told my mom. I saw the photo of her holding me in her arms for the first time. She said it was the happiest moment in her life.

From there, though, things started to go down.

When my father saw me for the first time, he was... well, he was speechless. You could say I was a rather unusual baby. And certainly not what my dad had expected!

You see, genetically I am a red fox, just like my parents, however I was born with a very rare color mutation that turned my entire fur green! It's nothing harmful or bad, just a funny, little coincidence in my genes that makes me look like I took a bath in a bucket of green paint. It is pretty much the same like a cross fox or silver fox are still red foxes, only with a different coat, you see? Only that my condition is a lot more seldom and hence not very well known. Anyway, the point is, I was green!

Apparently my father didn't take well to it. Mom told me, he just started at me for a moment in silence and then left the room in a hurry. He didn't even speak to her. The doctor had to comfort her since, as you could imagine, this was a pretty sad and disturbing experience for her. Dad didn't visit her in hospital after this neither.

A few days later, when we got home, he behaved very differently. He wouldn't talk to my mom, didn't care for me at all and was always moody. Mom asked what was up and he became very irate. He accused her of having an affair and that I was not from him. Can you imagine that?! I was pretty aghast when I heard about this later.

Now, I'm sure you want to know why he acted the way he did and why he would say such mean things, right? To explain that, I need to fill you in about the place we lived at. It was a small town that was predominantly occupied by red foxes. Big, ancient, unbelievably proud red fox families, to be precise. This comes from former times when a lot of nobility lived here, and, as you might know, apartheid was a big thing back in the day. Today things are a bit better, at least on first sight, but the town is still practically reigned by foxes.

Much to my father's distain, he did not descent from such an old family. But he worked hard and made himself a name amongst the long-established foxes over time. Of course having a freak as son and hire was unheard-of in this fine society and diminished my father's esteem. It wasn't even that they looked down upon him because of it, they did that anyway as they did with everyone else, but it was the rumors that spread and eventually nagged on his hard-earned reputation. Basically, all he ever saw in me was a big, fat stone on the smooth road that was his career.

Eventually, my mother convinced him that I was in fact his son. That didn't change much, though. The earliest memory I have about my father and the way he treated me, is one that I will probably never forget.

I was still very young and played in the living room when he came home from work. He entered the room, poured himself a drink and sat down in the armchair, waiting for dinner. Of course to that time I didn't know anything about my father's distaste towards me. All I saw in him was my dad who was always away, working.

I can see the situation right before me...

I was happy to see him and I wanted to play with him, like I often did with my mom. I left my toys behind and waddled over to him. Jumping up and down on the armrest I barked, "Daddy! Daddy!" and wanted to get his attention. But all he did was to take a sip from his Brandy, turn me around by the shoulder, push me away and say, "Go, play with your toys."

I stumbled back over to my blanket on the floor and sat down. I was so worried and frightened! I thought I had angered him somehow. I thought that I did something to make him reject me. I felt so sad and guilty. All I wanted was to have a good time with him.

Eventually, I took my favorite toy, the mighty caterpillar, and brought it to my dad. It was a big caterpillar plush that I got from my mom. I loved that thing and played with it all the time! So, I put it on the armrest and let it crawl over his leg. Oh, and I made some weird walking noises too. Something like, "trp trp trp trp trp..." I did it often with my mom and I remember that it made her super happy. Not my dad, though...

I still remember the way he looked at me. I'll never forget it!

Then he emptied his glass and stood. To my mother, who was in the kitchen to prepare dinner, he yelled, "Evelyn! Bring the damn kid to bed already!" Then he left the room.

He scared me so much that I fell down on my butt and started crying, with only the mighty caterpillar in my arms. That was the very first time that I thought, my own father hated me...

It's sad to admit this, but, after this incident, I was afraid of him for a long time. I never tried to play games with him again and I behaved the best I could around him. This made things easier for me. As long as I let him be and stayed out of sight, I wouldn't get in trouble with him.

To me, my mother was the exact opposite of him. She is the most loving and kindest person there is. She was, without doubt, a good mother and I owe a lot to her. Hadn't it been for her, I don't know where I'd be today!

Despite being the only person in my life who treated me with decency and like a parent was supposed to treat their child, my mom always made sure that I was well taken care of. She bought me toys when my father wouldn't, she cooked for me, made sure I was dressed properly, and later she would make sure to send me to a good school. But there was so much more I have to thank her for!

Dad put up with all this for her, not for me. I remember, usually when mom spent some money for me, be it clothes, school supplies, toys, whatever, dad would start an argument about it. It made me feel like I wasn't worth anything to him.

I know, the way I was raised, modesty was a virtue for me, but god damned! Why couldn't I have that new pullover without being told that the old one was still good enough? Why couldn't I get a new toy once in a while without getting to hear that I'm a spoiled blighter? Why couldn't I just do my god fucking homework in peace without putting up with remarks like 'this school is too good for you' or 'your education is just a waste of money'? There were times when I really hated my father. I didn't deserve this. No one deserves this! It wasn't like he couldn't afford it!

This was my life for a pretty long time. It wasn't an ideal childhood, but it worked somehow.

Another thing worth a mention, is an incident that changed quite a bit in our family. I was probably six or seven at the time, and I was inside playing ball. Yes, I'm sure you can already guess what happened. The ball landed in the showcase and smashed a few glasses.

Dad was there when it happened, and he was very angry. He yelled at me. Said some really bad things no son should have to hear from his dad, but we already had a few incidents like this. What really changed things, was when he raised his hand and hit me in the face. This was the very first time he ever actually hurt me!

Mom was in the room next door and heard me sob. She came over. Normally she would now cheer me up, get me out of my father's sight and then talk to him to calm him down. This time, though, she was totally different. It felt cold and tense, and I remember she gave my father the look I got when I really, REALLY screwed up. Only far worse!

She took me to the side and sent me straight to my room. Her voice was not at all loving and kind in that moment, and I knew it was better to do as she told. I left, but waited on the staircase to listen in on what followed. I expected my dad to rant about me again and that he'd tell mom to keep me better in check, as he usually did. But not this time!

Instead, my mother raised her voice. I have never seen her more angry in my entire life, whether before nor after! She yelled at him and made sure that he was not to hit me ever again. She said, it was already hard enough for me to live with a father like him, but she could cope with that. But what she would absolutely not tolerate, was for him to hurt me.

"And if you ever dare to raise your hand against my... against OUR son again, I will take him, walk out of that door and you will see neither of us ever again!" was the last thing I heard her say before I quickly sneaked into my room.

I went to bed right away and hid myself under the blanket. My face hurt and I cried. I didn't want my parents to fight. At least not more than they already did. But this time was so intense!

A few moments later, my mom came to me. I pretended to be asleep, but she knew better. She sat down by my side and comforted me. I don't remember everything she said because I was just glad she was there, but I know she told me that it was never going to happen again. In that situation I wasn't too sure about that, though.

As it turned out, however, she was right. Apparently my father took her words to heart. He didn't treat me any better than before. If anything he ignored me even more now and stayed away from home as much as he could. But he never hit me again after this!


To be continued
