Fluffy Shelter for the Abused: Spud
You scratch the back of your neck, you were bitten by a mosquito. Be British teenager who moved to America. You recently volunteered at the Fluffy Shelter for the Abused. They were rare back in England, at least as ferals. The constant rain soaked straight through their fluff. It started out as just a way to pass the time when you weren’t backpacking. But it’s oddly rewarding in the long run for you.
“Hey Crush” you say as you step over the limb lacking ball of fuzz. The blue fluffy stares up at you, waving his wheel at you with a smile before he sets off walking again. It looked loose, you’d better let someone know, Crush seems awfully particular with who mends his ‘special leg’. Oh well, it’s his choice.
You’re not a medical expert by any means, you know just about enough to do standard check ups. But you sincerely enjoy and are skilled at being emotional support. One of the few uses of looking