Number 2 - Carton
Ever since he first opened his see-places, Carton has been drawn to the color red. Who knows why? Maybe one of his parents was this color, or another floral he got on well with. Carton certainly doesn’t remember or have the mental capacity to dwell on why it’s his favorite color.
Having born in a breeding mill and quickly shipped out as a foal in a can, Carton spent his a lot of his early life (for a fluffy) in in confined spaces. After he was purchased & his owner popped open his can, Carton was more than ready to make use of his legs. He wasn’t a spwowa babbeh, he just had so much energy to burn.
Naturally his favorite toy would end up being the “wed baww” that he loved to chase after. There were actually multiple “wed bawws” as his owner had bought several fluffy-safe plastic balls of different colors. Carton’s owner provided a good variety of toys for his fluffies to discourage them from fighting over who got what. Carton’s owner had had some bad experiences with this in the past.
Carton didn’t really have a particular favorite wed baww, whatever red colored ball he happened to be chasing at the moment was his speshew wed baww. Carton could chase his it around the safe room until his little weggies grew too tired too tired to carry him, almost a full five minutes. Sometimes Carton would play with other fluffies in the safe room, but whenever he saw a speshew wed baww rolling around, it became an immediate priority.
Carton’s fixation didn’t cause any tensions between him and the other fluffies, but it eventually lead to complications because Carton seemed to be extremely accident prone. There were a lot of close calls, balls ricocheting off walls and hitting him or another fluffy in the face, a few trips and falls, but no lasting injuries.
However, Carton’s owner didn’t like coming home from work to find his fluffies getting new bruises or scrapes (the wowstest huwties to these sheltered fluffs). He assumed the the fluffies (all males) were rough-housing while he was gone. He tried disciplining them with scoldings, timeouts in the sorry box, and occasionally giving a few taps with the sorry stick.
The final straw would be when Carton’s owner came home to find Carton screeching over a recent eye trauma. The owner assumed he’d received it from another fluffy, but he’d actually received it when he plowed into a stack of bwockies while chasing the speshew wed baww and a corner of one of the bwockies struck his eye. Carton’s owner decided it was time to take drastic measures and start reducing the number of fluffies he was keeping.
Carton found himself placed inside his carrier, and he hated being forced into a confined space again. Carton cried for his “speshew wed baww”, and his owner complied, giving him one of the red balls in the saferoom to calm him down. Carton then found himself in a cage that was bigger than the crampt carrying case but much smaller than the saferoom he had become accustomed to. At least he had his wed baww.
After many forevers, Carton would be adopted by a couple looking for a fluffy to keep their son company. Their 9-year-old son, Tim, suffered from a debilitating condition that often left him wheelchair bound and limited his vision and the use of his hands.
Tim wasn’t sure at first what think of Carton (he didn’t rename him). Eventually, Tim found that he enjoyed watching the little guy scurry around chasing his ball. It didn’t hurt that throwing the ball for him was one of the few activities Tim could do with his hands fairly easily. Carton naturally loved his new weewwy daddeh as any good fluffy would. Sometimes Carton even remembered to bring the ball back to Tim when he said, “Fetch.”
Carton never stopped being accident prone. He ran into walls and tripped over things because of his singular focus on catching wed baww. Luckily, Carton avoided further serious injuries, and he was pretty resilient for a fluffy. He had a good life in a loving home.
As Tim got older, he started receiving more treatment for his condition. This meant that Carton got see less of his weewwy daddeh. This made Carton upset, but Tim tried his best to explain that it was to help him feel better. Carton didn’t fully understand, but he was able to put on a brave face when Tim told him that, when he got back, he would play with him for the rest of the day and have sketties after. Even though Carton was still sad, he could still distract himself by chasing speshew wed baww.
One day, Tim left to undergo a procedure that, if successful, would improve Tim’s motor skills. Hopefully, he’d gain full use of his hands. Carton was sad when he found out Weewwy Daddeh was going to be leaving him, but Tim explained that it would allow him to play with him more and throw his ball better than before. Carton replied saying that Weewwy Daddeh could already throw wed baww “betta den anywun eva.” Tim told him to wait for him and be good and they’d play and have sketties when he got back.
Carton was good, he was always good. He never made bad poopies. He ate his kibble, even if it didn’t taste nearly as good as sketties. Most importantly, he never tried to leave the saferoom without Daddeh. The behavioral programming has been practically beaten into him since birth. It didn’t always work for all fluffies, but it worked on Carton. And esides, he didn’t want to do anything that might make Weewwy Daddeh sad.
Carton stayed in the saferoom. He played with his bwockies, he cuddled his stuffy fwen, and of course, he played with wed baww. It was while playing with the ball that, after sending it bouncing off the door, and being to stop in time, Carton would run right into the door with just enough force for it to open. By some cruel twist of fate and a quirk of the wooden door in humid weather, while the door to the safe room had been locked, it had not been completely closed. Intead, the door had gotten stuck in the doorframe, and in the rush to get Tim to his appointment at the hospital, no one in the family remembered to check that the door was actually closed.
Carton had been stunned by the impact. But it hadn’t injured him. He came to after a few minutes. It didn’t immediately register with him that the saferoom door was open. Carton looked around, spotted wed baww, and started playing with it again. He was so fixated on wed baww that he didn’t realize his chase had led him out of the saferoom. Wed baww led him down the hallway, past the steep basement stairs, and into the living room. The chase led Carton into the living room’s key feature, from when it was built in the 1960s,the conversation pit. It was only a six inch drop, not far even for a fluffy. If Carton had been paying attention, he could have jumped down without injury, but Carton wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t notice the drop until it was too late and there was nothing beneath his hooves. As he landed, he made a desperate attempt to catch himself with his front legs, but they bent at odd angles. Carton then felt the wortest huwties eva.
The two hours Carton laid their would’ve been agonizing for anyone. To Carton it felt like a lifetime. Tim and his family were coming home in high spirits. The procedure had been a success! Tim was already able to make better use of his hands than ever before. He was still a bit weak, but with some exercise his doctor recommended, he’d quickly be able to strengthen the underdeveloped muscles. Their quickly brought down by horrible sight of Carton’s broken, sobbing little form on the floor.
Tim’s father was hesitant at first to spend so much money on something like leg braces for a fluffy of all things. Tim’s procedure had already cost a lot of their savings, but when he saw how Carton’s injury had affected his son and some additional pressure from his wife, he gave in. He’d later admit to himself that it was worth it. Both of Tim’s parents had seen the positive effect Carton had on their son. He helped Tim stay active, kept him company on lonely days, and gave him one more thing to motivate him. They’d grown fond of the little guy and there was no guarantee that a new fluffy would be anywhere near as well-behaved as Carton.
The braces were expensive, even if they were the cheapest option. They were made of a firm but flexible plastic. They allowed Carton to wun an pway again, but he couldn’t run as fast as he could before which, to be fair, wasn’t very fast to begin with. The braces also got in the way when he gave huggiesCarton’s front legs never fully healed, he’d flailed them around too much when the injury occurred for that. He’d have to wear the leg braces for the rest of his life. The upside was that it made the accident-prone fluffy easier to manage. Unfortunately, it still wouldn’t be the last major injury the fluffy would suffer.
It would happen after Tim’s second major procedure. This one would give Tim the use of his legs. Tim could finally stand up from the wheelchair. He still needed assistance until his legs got stronger. He had a walker at first which he hated; later he would make use of a cane until his legs finally became strong enough to hold him up on their own. One nice afternoon, Tim was outside playing with Carton. Since gaining use of his legs, even with a cane, Tim loved spending as much time as possible enjoying the outdoors. It didn’t hurt that he was now a teenager and was starting to notice the girl who lived next door.
It was that distraction that led to the accident that occurred. Tim had just thrown the ball for Carton when he saw his neighbors coming home from a trip. He waved and said hi to the girl as they were walking into the house, it all he was brave enough to say to her at that point. After the neighbors had entered their home he turned his attention back to Carton. To his horror, he saw the ball leading Carton into the street. Tim was still using a cane at that point and was too slow to get to Carton in time. The car that hit him didn’t even slow down or stop after it happened. Tim got to Carton as quick as he could and scooped the fluffy up to check on him. Carton was still alive. He had to be simultaneously the luckiest danger-probes fluffy in existence. The car had only run over his back legs. They were horribly mangled, but Carton was still alive and that’s what mattered most.
The vet determined that Cartons legs were damaged beyond repair. They would have to be amputated. This caused Carton no small heawt huwties to say the least. Tim could hurt his little buddy to not be able to run anymore. Tim and his parents refused to go for a full pillowing. They knew it would damage Carton’s emotional state even more. After a few days watching the little fluffy laying around on a pillow, looking sad and miserable, an idea struck Tim. After the successful restoration of his hands, Tim had picked up a few hobbies working with tools and putting together little mechanisms. He was on his way to becoming a skilled mechanic. Even after Tim no longer needed the wheelchair, Carton still called him his weewwy daddeh. Tim didn’t mind at all, it was cute and it reminded Tim of how far he’d come. It was also what inspired Tim to build new legs for Carton.
Tim worked during every free period he had. It took a whole week but when he finished, he was proud of his work. Tim’s family had sold off the old wheelchair, and he couldn’t be happier to see it go. But now Tim new that Carton would need a set of wheels to not be miserable anymore. He based his plans on some designs he’d seen for dog wheelchairs. The moment Tim strapped Carton in, he knew his efforts had been worth it. Carton was the back to being the happy energetic pet he had been before. He could run faster now which meant that Tim would have to put in more effort to keep up with him. Thankfully that would be last bad accident that Carton would have. In spite of all his injuries, Carton would go on to live a good long life for a fluffy.
Tim would grow up to become a successful mechanic and small business owner. He never owned another fluffy, but he never forgot about his little friend. Sometimes when he reminisced about Carton, considered how strange it was that, the more whole he became, the more Carton seemed to lose parts of himself. Tim didn’t consider himself superstitious; he just considered it an odd coincidence. He even remembered how, before his family adopted Carton, Tim had been treated for poor eyesite in his right eye.
I decided to try writing something about this fluffy because I noticed other users had come up with some fun ideas, but no one had written an actual story for him. This ended up being a fair bit longer than I expected, I hope it’s not too long. I meant to post it last week, but I just forgot about it. Being sick with the flu didn’t help.
I know this is cutting it close so I don’t know I’ll even get any likes. @DarkMatter if you feel in any way inspired by my little screed, feel free to make any changes and cuts as you want.
