This is a companion piece to The Newton Rescue for Brown Fluffies as I enjoyed the characters in it
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Potato was a cheerful little brown and dull green stallion who loved nothing more than to cuddle up with his mummah, an elderly woman who didn’t get around so well anymore. They’d watch television a good portion of the day and she’d taught him to bring her items that she may require throughout the day. Every night she’d make him a nice homemade meal and give him a bath. He’d sleep at the foot of her bed, snoring loudly though she didn’t hear too well anyways.
The fluffy was a good boy but he did have one bad habit: He loved chewing on stuff that he shouldn’t. Namely, the cord to a heating pad his mummah had for her arthritis.
“Potato, stop that!” She gave his head a light tap one day when she’d caught him chewing on the thick white cord, the stallion giving a bashful wag of his tail.
“Sowwy. Tato wikes sketti fing.” So that had been that. For a few days. He’d start chewing on it again as she was napping on the loveseat, watching daytime TV court shows and finding himself slightly bored. Chomp chomp chomp! This was fun. Well, until he had gnawed away the protective casing keeping the wires safely bundled away. Biting down especially hard, he found himself at the receiving end of a great surge of electricity. It ran through his body and caused him to freeze in place, body tremoring. The power brick it was on tripped and thankfully saved him from being sent to the afterlife, but he’d still collapse and make bad poopies and bad peepees on the floor.
His mummah immediately noticed something was wrong after waking up and seeing him on the floor.
“Potato? Potato! Wake up, boy!” She gave him a few shakes and the fluffy lifted his head. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to focus on her. A drab of drool dripped out of his mouth.
“Poo…pies…?” He asked, noticing he was in a pile of it. It was hard to connect anything in his head. Thoughts formed and then ran away. No matter how hard he tries, it seemed almost impossible to think properly. The old woman scooped him up and brought him to the sink, giving him a bath. What more could she do? She’d seen the cord and kind of put two and two together.
“I told you to stop chewin’ that dang old cord!” She scolded him, tearing up.
“Towd Tato?” He asked, mouth hanging agape. A nod. “Dank yew ‘fo teww Tato. Teehee…”
So she would have to navigate life with him the way he was now. She tried and tried to get him back on the right track before the accident.
“Potato, can you fetch me my slippers? My feet are awful cold.” The fluffy looked around, stumbled from side to side, walked right past the slippers. He didn’t even return for a long while. When she got up to make dinner she found him standing in the center of the kitchen, eyes narrowed as if in deep thought.
The stallion couldn’t sleep at the foot of her bed anymore either. He simply had too many accidents. The waste seemed to slip right out of him, even when he was fully awake and as aware as he could be. She knew he didn’t mean to because he’d stand in the litterbox as if trying to force himself to do good, but usually to no avail.
She was getting too old to give him the special care that he needed. There was hope, though. Packing up his things in the car one day she would buckle the stallion up too and take him to a special shelter in town. They specialized in housing brown fluffies and had promised her that Potato would get the best care he could be given considering the situation.
As Potato was being surrendered to the shelter staff, he gave his old mummah a confused look.
“Mummah…nu wub Tato…?” He asked in his gentle trailing tone. His mummah shook her head.
“Momma loves you the most, Potato. I’m gettin’ too old though. And I’ll visit as much as I can.” She slipped something over his head. A little blue wool hat that she had knit him. Tato giggled, gave a wag over his tail as she pat his cheek and turned to walk away.
The old woman had kept her promise, too. She visited the shelter at least twice a week to visit her bestest little guy. Brought his new friends baked skettis, watched television with them, listened to their stories.
They were the closest thing she’d had to friends and family in a long time. It’d broken her heart to hear about what had happened there, even when spared the horrible details.
