TMNT are the property of Mirage.

Pet Peeves

"Can I keep him? I found him wandering in the sewers, lost and alone and scared! He's got no home!" Michelangelo begged, big soulful eyes staring up with such depths of pleading that Splinter, as much as he had already hardened his heart, found himself in danger of cracking. How was it that, of the four, this one had developed this knack for getting his way by being so appealing? Was it a byproduct of the mutation, perhaps?

They were all pretty much the same, physically, though perhaps in size. Their facial features were easy enough for Splinter to tell them apart Even in the early days when they had all first begun to mutate, he had noticed that, though the same in color, shape, and relative size, he could distinguish between all four of them.

Now it was easier than ever. Leonardo, even as an eight-year-old, seemed a bit too serious sometimes. He looked very thoughtful some moments, and Splinter would worry- until he would play a trick on one of his brothers, or get into a squabble with Raphael.

Donatello was similar to Leonardo in that respect. They both laughed and cried and showed emotions, but Donatello often wore a serious expression on his face. Splinter had come to discover early on, however, that with this one, it was what some might term a "dreamy expression", and indicated that he was contemplating some invention, or wondering how something worked.

Raphael and Michelangelo were the two who seemed more at ease in wearing their emotions on their faces. You could always tell what one of them was thinking, or planning, or how they were feeling. Generally it seemed that they were at opposite ends of the spectrum, with Raphael always "angry" and Michelangelo always "happy", but Splinter knew that this was not the case. Yes, Raphael had a temper, and at first Splinter was convinced that something was wrong. But then he came to realize that the other three could compete on even footing with Raphael when it came to temper-tantrums. It was just that they tended to let things fester longer, building up to a big explosion, whereas Raphael let it go at once- and usually seemed the better for it later.

They could all look appealing, as well, when they really wanted something special. They could all turn on the charm, whether it was Raphael wheedling some extra time above ground when it was his turn to help Splinter hunt for supplies, to Donatello's very heartfelt pleas to staying "just five more minutes" at the junk yard, to Leonardo's begging for extra practice time when he should be sleeping...

But Michelangelo- well, that child seemed unnaturally gifted in that department!

Splinter, standing there in the tunnel, looking with shock at this animal that his son had somehow found in the sewers, had somehow gotten all the way here to their home, marveled at his son's powers of persuasion. He had seen him worm his way out of his brothers' anger whenever he played a joke that had gone too far, or wanted to play with their most valued toys, or just wanted to spend time with them.

Raphael was the one who hit him the most, and yet even he was not immune to what his brothers termed Michelangelo's "puppy dog eyes", and sometimes caved under the pressure of Mr. Charm.

But this? NO! This time Splinter must, he absolutely MUST put his foot down.

Tears, pleadings, that little hesitant touch of his son's hand gently tugging on his robe and at his heart, would NOT permit the keeping of this animal!

"It is impossible, my son," he cut him off. "It is highly impossible. I can barely feed you four! This creature would consume too much food. And it is not meant to live underground. You cannot force an animal that was born to live on the surface-"

"But, we were born to live on the surface," Michelangelo sniffled, his head hanging just so, his eyes reflecting "confusion"- another little trick of his; he had tried this argument before, when he'd brought home the bird. And the frog. And the puppy. And the turtle. (though with that one, his goal was to "grow a sister"; he was sure that Splinter could somehow do it. After all, Splinter had carefully preserved the canister that the green ooze had come from. Perhaps there was enough in there to do the job!)

"No, my son. We cannot keep this animal! He is too big, and will not fit in our home."

"He can stay outside!"

"He is not your animal. I can tell that he belongs to someone, and they will be looking for him," Splinter said firmly. "In fact, he is a danger to us! This animal is one that not only will be missed, but will bring about a large number of the surface dwellers searching for him. We must take him back."

The youngest looked desperately at the creature in question. He stared into those large brown eyes, and just knew, he just knew, that he wanted to stay with Mikey! He could tell!

"But he followed me home! He wants to stay with me! I've even given him a name: Silver!"

Splinter stared again at this dark brown creature. Where had his son come up with...

"No! He is not your property. I do not know how you did it, Hamato Michelangelo, but we must return this animal to the surface, and we must do it now! No more arguments!"

Michelangelo began to renew his begging, to turn on the tears, to radiate as much "I'm your youngest and cutest please let me have my way" vibes as he could, but the look on his father's face alerted him to the fact that this time (even more so than with the bird and the frog and the puppy and the turtle) the answer was definitely "No".

Now his head hung for real.

"Yes, Father," he conceded. "I'll take him back."

"And I will go with you, to be sure that the police do not capture you," Splinter replied, grabbing his walking stick and warning the other three to "stay in the house and keep the door locked!"

Then Splinter took the reins of the police horse and, indicating that his son should lead the way, they eventually returned to the park where a full-scale search was taking place.

It was easy to shoo the animal out of the large, forgotten, ancient drainage pipe (once Splinter had moved the overgrowth of ivy that helped to hide it, that is). The two watched as the searchers spotted the horse, and relief spread among the humans.

"Where have you been, Mikey? Eh?" the female officer gushed, as she petted the horse's nose and he happily accepted the bits of treat that she kept on hand for him. "He seems to be okay- smells a bit like the sewers, but no injuries."

"Any sign of who took him?" one of her colleagues asked. The woman shook her head, then grimaced. Splinter and Michelangelo noticed that she appeared to have a bandage on her head.

"Nope," she replied. "And I didn't get a good look. One minute I'm riding along after a purse snatcher, the next minute I'm on the ground. I'm still not sure what happened. Something or someone startled him, which is unusual. He doesn't spook easily. Do you, baby?"

The horse softly nickered into her hand, searching for more treats.

"Well, you need to go to the hospital," the one insisted. "The captain will kill me as it is for allowing you to stay and search instead of going to get checked out."

Splinter led his son back home.

"Mikey? The horse's name was Mikey?" he mumbled once they were far enough away to not be heard. "Wow! That is so-"

"How did you find that horse, my son?" Splinter's stern voice cut through the wonderment of the Turtle.

"Umm... well... you see..." Michelangelo suddenly felt as if there was a spanking in his future. "He was in the sewers, and..."

The look he was getting warned him that lying was punished much more harshly than any other thing.

He sighed.

"I was... sort of... in the park... alone..."

Yes, he definitely was getting a spanking.

Oh, well... at least, for a very short time today, he had been the proud "owner" of a horse. That was more than his brothers could say!

They walked on in silence, until they were just in sight of the entrance to their home. Then Michelangelo, the optimist, smiled up at his father, suddenly inspired.

"So... can I have a kitty?"