Duncan
You have a pet fluffy, Duncan. Like most of his species, he’s a dumbass. Fortunately, he’s a resilient little dumbass.
Once, he chewed through an orange extension cord thinking it was ‘skettis’ and zapped himself. He not only survived, he didn’t even reset himself. Though he kinda walked funny for a day or so, kept bumping into walls, and mumbled incoherently. He got over it though.
Another time, he saw some guys snowboarding on tv and decided to try the same thing. He got on your son’s skateboard and pushed off. At the top of the stairs. He had a concussion, some cracked ribs, and some nasty bruising, but he survived.
Last summer, he saw you and your family playing in the pool, and worked up the courage to overcome his fear of water and join you. He nearly drowned, but you got him out of the water in time, and pressing on his abdomen squirted the water out. And made him shit in the pool. But he lived.
A month later, when you thought the fluffy door was latched so you could mow the lawn, he chased his ball right in front of the mower and you killed the engine right as you heard the BZZZRAATT of something going into the blade and Duncan’s loud screaming. Most of his tail was pulled out by the roots and will never grow back, but other than that, all he suffered was a few minor cuts and bruises. Lucky son of a bitch.
Another time, you didn’t know he followed you out the door when you left to go to work and you hit him with the car; fortunately, the back up alarm squeeled and you hit the brakes, or he’d have gone under the tire. As it was, all he had was a bloody nose and some mild road rash.
Last winter, he went outside to poop and stayed to play in the snow. Your daughter didn’t realize he was outside and latched the fluffy door for the night. He spent the whole night outdoors in below freezing weather, huddled in a little den he dug in the snow. Other than a nasty cold he took a week to get over, he suffered no serious ill effects.
This past spring, he ate one of your wife’s tomato plants and you had to take a screaming, puking fluffy to the vet. Turns out every part of the tomato plant is poisonous except the tomatoes themselves. He had his system flushed, but recovered quickly.
Earlier this summer, the neighbor’s dog dug under your fence and attacked him. Other than some chunks of fluff torn out and a few bite wounds that had to be disinfected and patched up, he was fine. He’s taken to climbing on your son’s swingset and spraying feces over the fence at the dog though.
And just last week, he got jumped by a feral cat. He limped into the house, crying, and showed you his scratches, the bite wound on the back of his neck, and his swollen eye. He also showed you the cat, which was floating face down in the pool, dead. Turns out Duncan had stomped its “special lumps” and while the cat tried to recover, Duncan shoved him into the water and held him down with one hoof. Vengeful little bastard, but you can’t blame him.
Today, you’re sitting in the vet’s office waiting for Duncan’s turn to go in back. Some kid’s bottle rocket came flying over the fence (it was a genuine accident, he was just getting started for the Fourth of July early.) and hit Duncan in the ass before it exploded, singing his fluff and blasting a small chunk out of his skin.
You named him Duncan McCloud, after the Highlander, as a joke. You didn’t know he would actually become immortal.