#dr. fuzzby

“Dr. Fuzzby.” He nodded once, still not looking at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I don’t recall it being time for your quarterly report.” As if to emphasize this, he glanced at the calander hanging from the wall beside his desk before finally meeting her eye with an arched brow. 

She adjusted her glasses and settled the folder across her lap. “Yes, that’s correct. I’m here to discuss a case, actually. From our Partners in Crisis program.”

“Oh?” His tone was flat. Disinterested.

“Yes, standard protocol.” She opened the folder to her case files, revealing the pictures of the two mammals in question.

Chief Bogo groaned. “Of course. Of course this would be about Officers Hopps and Wilde. Why am I not surprised?” He frowned, shaking his head. “Go on, tell me, what chaos did they incite this time?”

“Well, actually, Chief, I’m here to tell you I’m requesting a closure of their case.”

“You want to. . . close their case?”

 Quinta nodded. “Yes, sir. Against all odds, they have surpassed every milestone I’ve set for them and are officially eligible to graduate the program. With your approval, of course, as their commanding chief.”

“Did you not initially recommend a two-year program?” The Chief looked unconvinced. “It’s been what, six months?”

“I did, yes. But . . . honestly, sir, they’ve had their issues resolved since the Linxley incident. I’m sure you’ve seen the changes in their performance.”

The Chief grunted his agreement.

Quinta’s eyes roamed the framed newspapers littering his wall, many of them recent. HOPPS AND WILDE AT IT AGAIN, STAR-CROSSED COPS CATCH CATNIP DEALER, DYNAMIC DUO SAVE THE DAY, ZPD’S FINEST, ANYONE CAN BE ANYTHING, WILDE & HOPPS DISMANTLING THE UNDERBELLY, and many more. There were other officers too, of course, but Hopps and Wilde were the blatant majority.

“It’s quite extraordinary, the progress they’ve made in such a short amount of time. While I would usually advise continued therapy as a precaution, I don’t find it necessary this time around.” Her smile widened. “It really challenges our understanding of interspecies partnerships. Especially in regard to the predation paradox.”

Chief Bogo’s outward expression was apathetic, but his body language betrayed him. Ears tilted, a slight lean in her direction, torso angled toward her—all indicators that he was, in fact, interested in what she had to say. An ear twitched, and he set his pen down on his desk. “Predation paradox, Dr. Fuzzby?”

She nodded. “As you know, partnerships are advised based on biological compatibility. While interspecies assignments are common enough, both parties are usually within a similar trophic level, preferably the same genus.” At the glazed look and mounting irritation brewing within the chief’s expression, Quinta’s smile became apologetic. “What I mean to say is, we typically avoid recommending a predator-prey dynamic whenever possible. Especially when the parties in question originate from opposing trophic levels. It’s, what we call in Mammal Resources, a Conflict of Biology. The Predation Paradox refers to the dynamic between predator and prey within their ancestral ecosystem.”

The Chief stiffened, ears flattening against his head. He scowled as his attention returned to the stack of documents on his desk. Quinta knew right away she’d upset him. Eventually, Bogo muttered, “You are here to ask me to split up Officers Hopps and Wilde, is that it?”

She blinked and softened her voice. “Oh no, quite the opposite. Like I told you earlier, sir, I’m here to advocate for their graduation from Partners in Crisis. The status of their partnership is your prerogative. I am merely here to observe and advise. Officers Hopps and Wilde are . . .  a unique case.”

Chief Bogo snorted and rolled his eyes, though, trained as she was, Quinta didn’t miss the slight upturn to his mouth, nor the warmth that flooded his features. It was subtle, but it was there, nonetheless. “That they are, Dr. Fuzzby.”

Despite what most of the ZPD believed, Quinta was not part of Mammal Resources. She was an independent contractor brought in through the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, and though she often worked closely with MR as a certified Therapy Animal for police officers in dysfunction junction, her main area of study was in the field of Behavioral Sciences.

She’d been researching the trophic polarization of predator and prey for some time when the chance to oversee the ZPD’s Partners in Crisis program was offered to her. Being a quokka, the mammals at City Hall felt that her naturally friendly face, coupled with her years studying animal behavior, would be beneficial in alleviating any resulting tensions that might arise from new hiring guidelines.

“As you know,” Quinta said, “Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde were the first predator and prey assigned to work together as fulltime partners. There’ve been . . . other attempts since, of course”—she winced, thinking of Joel and Karen—“but none of them have had the same success.”

“Yes, well,” Chief Bogo feigned indifference, flipping through papers she knew he was no longer reading, “they are good officers. Good instincts. And after a few growing pains and weeks spent being a major pain in my tail, they have turned out to be a good team. On their way to being one of my best, even. So if you believe they are ready, then I will take your word for it. Do you have something for me to sign?”

“I sure do!” She handed him the necessary form that he promptly signed with a quick flick of his pen and returned to her. “You know, it’s really quite fascinating if you think about it.”

“What is?” he asked flatly.

“Breaking down behavior patterns along with evolutionary sapience—it highlights the parallels between instinct and conscience. Foxes, for example, were once a natural predator of rabbits, so seeing Officers Hopps and Wilde work so well together, using their differences as an advantage . . . well, you must be so very proud of them.”

“We are not in the stone ages, Dr. Fuzzby,” Chief Bogo droned. “I would argue that factoring in an officer’s biology would be a rather archaic sanction.”

She dipped her chin once. “I understand that, sir, I do. And you’re correct, as a society we have evolved beyond our instincts, but you know as well as I do the tribulations that can arise between polarized partners in high stress environments. You mentioned when we last spoke about potential promotions for them in the near future, so their dynamic is something myself, Mammal Resources, and even City Hall are keen to pay attention to. For better or worse, Officers Hopps and Wilde are the faces of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, so how they are presented to the public matters.”

 “Charmed,” Chief Bogo said in a clipped tone, but she caught the faraway look that crept into his expression as he paused to stare at the collage of framed newspaper clippings. “But I do understand where you’re coming from. I won’t lie, I had reservations at first about pairing them up, but Hopps was,” he chuckled, “tenacious. She would not stop pestering me the whole time Wilde was in the academy. I eventually gave in for my own sanity. And I was almost right, early on, just before the mess with the Lynxley family. The fox and bunny were a mess. Constantly at each other’s throats and foolhardy. I could see they were bringing out the worst in each other.”

Quinta nodded. Her assessment at the time had been similar. “And yet they figured it out.”

“That they did. They proved me wrong. Again.” He shook his head. “I believe a wise mammal once said, ‘the more we understand each other, the more exceptional each of us will be.’ If Hopps and Wilde can do it . . . then maybe . . . maybe there is hope for the rest of us after all.”

Chief Bogo was an enigma, Quinta realized. His tough exterior and peevish affectations, which were common attributes of his species, belied the gentle and thoughtful mammal he was on the inside. Contrary to what many of his peers believed, he truly cared about his officers. It was admirable, to say the least. 

Shuffling her papers into a semblance of order, Quinta closed her folder and bid the chief her parting pleasantries, to which he responded with his own, albeit half-grunted as he’d already returned to flipping through his own stack of documents. She hopped from her chair and left his office, passing through the main atrium of the ZPD and slipped through the throng of gargantuan officers milling about. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite therapy animal,” a familiar voice drawled.

Quinta blinked and turned to find Nick Wilde leaning against a water cooler at the room’s perimeter, a paper cup in paw. Judy Hopps was filling her own cup with her back to Quinta, though her ears swiveled toward Quinta’s direction at her partner’s announcement.

“Judy. Nick,” Quinta greeted easily, tucking her folder under her arm. “What a coincidence running into you two.”

Nick arched a brow. “Uh, we work here.”

“Ignore him,” Judy said, elbowing Nick’s side as she appeared beside him sipping her water. To her partner, she said, “She’s probably surprised to see us here because we’re usually out on the beat or chasing down perps, not stuck in the office, Slick.”

He angled his body to accommodate her, his tail curling at her back, the tip of it flicking in a telltale sign of affection. He straightened and stood taller, though his expression was half-lidded and neutral. “Yes, well, this is where the true crimes are fought. And by true crimes I mean the aggressive injustice that is written reports.”

Judy rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

His placid expression morphed into one of contrived dismay. “Ouch. You wound me, Carrots.” He met Quinta’s eye. “Doc, please tell me you have some free time today. I think I need to work through my trauma regarding a certain violent bunny.”

“What was it that Chief Bogo once said?” Judy asked in a sickly-sweet voice. “Something about wanting a traumatic adulthood?”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Nick shot back, smirking.

Judy huffed but she was clearly fighting a smile. “Okay, that’s it. Dr. Fuzzby, it was wonderful seeing you and we look forward to our next Partners in Crisis meeting, but my partner and I have reports that need writing and some upcoming cases that need profiling.” She tugged at Nick’s tie. “C’mon, Lazy Fox. Coffee break’s over.”

Nick raised a claw, allowing himself to be pulled in Judy’s direction. “Question. Can this be construed as a coffee break if no coffee was to be had?”

“It is if you want to get out of here at a reasonable hour. The way I see it, we have three hours before the movie you want to see starts, and we’ll be lucky leave here by then if you keep stalling.”

“Your cruelty truly has no limit. Tell me, Carrots, do you wake up every day with a predisposition toward violence?”

“Only when I wake up thinking about you.”

“Oh, so you admit you wake up thinking about me, then?”

“Shut up,” Judy hissed, just as the pair disappeared around a corner. 

Quinta stared after them for several moments, then shook her head, chuckling a little at their obvious flirting. What she would give to spend a day with them out on the beat or in their patrol car, observing their synergy. They were a force to be reckoned with, those two. A successful partnership between polarized mammals was novel enough, but their irrefutable attraction to each other? It was a behaviorist’s dream. There was so much she could learn from them if given the opportunity.

A bunny and a fox. Two mammals that, even in their evolved society, should not gel as well with each other as they do. In addition to monitoring their progress in her Partners in Crisis program, she’d also been a close follower of their careers, deeply fascinated by the creative ways in which they solved their cases.

Judy Hopps, for example, was an overly optimistic idealist who had barreled into her career and, therefore, the media spotlight like a freight train, shattering every stereotype attributed to small prey animals. Quick-witted, fast on her feet, and with the superb hearing and panoramic vision that came with being a member of the Leporidae family, she’d quickly proven herself on the force, which had instantly begged the question as to why small mammals hadn’t been considered before the Mammal Inclusion Initiative. Hopps was small, certainly, but she wasn’t meek, nor was she feeble, and Quinta had nothing but the utmost respect for her, being a small prey animal herself.

And then, of course, there was Judy’s partner.

Nick Wilde was cynical, street-smart, and being a fox, was adaptable and cunning in ways that most mammals weren’t. In fact, it was a common joke amongst Quinta’s peers that foxes were merely “canid hardware operating with feline software,” because of just how strong their unique senses were. Like most Canidae, foxes had excellent hearing and strong olfactory receptors, but what made them truly exceptional was their acute night vision and unparalleled magnetoreception, a trait unseen elsewhere in the animal kingdom and one that had made them rather successful predators during the early ages of Sapience.

The thing is, Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde shouldn’t work. And at first, they hadn’t. Opposites in almost every way, theirs was the type of partnership that Quinta and her peers, both in Mammal Resources and back at the Zootopia Institute of Zoology, had strongly advised against until Chief Bogo made the executive decision to forgo their council and appoint Judy and Nick as partners anyway. As a surprise to no one, the pair didn’t make it a week before their tails ended up planted in the chairs of Quinta’s office at the ZPD. A mess of suppressed discomfort, denial, disconnection, and emotional insecurity, it was only a matter of time before the faltering partnership between them detonated.

It had come close. She’d seen the news. The Zootennial Gala, Honeymoon lodge, the arrest, and the subsequent jailbreak. The Linxley drama, plastered everywhere, and those harrowing CCTV clips of Nick and Judy almost losing their lives and then risking them once again to save each other. By the time Quinta was able to meet with them after the reptile fiasco was absolved, they’d returned as changed mammals. Still juxtaposed, but with a new receptiveness for each other’s differences, a quiet understanding that transcended both sociology and biology. Their earlier friction was now the glue binding them together. When Judy spoke, she now paused to gauge Nick’s reaction; when she moved, he mirrored her, a hypervigilance Quinta was unused to seeing in a fox except for when it came to . . .

Well, that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?

So consumed as she was by her own thoughts, Quinta didn’t notice the approach of the rotund cheetah officer, Benjamin Clawhauser, until he appeared beside the water cooler, opening the valve of the dispenser with poorly feigned nonchalance as he filled a cup. “So . . .” he said, watching her from the corner of his eye. “You saw that too, huh?”

Quinta straightened and adjusted the folder under her arm. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she lied.