Fluffy Derpy: Chapter 4

>a couple more months pass after her casts come off
>during this time, you begin to wonder more about the outburst she had
>she hasn’t had another one, and you’re not sure exactly why
>did she learn her lesson, is she afraid of losing her muffins, is she afraid of you, what?
>you somewhat regret going so easy on her
>you’re beginning to regret a lot of things
>like how you spent so much money on the prosthetic leg when you could’ve made one, or even repaired it on your own
>or how all that money could’ve gone to a fluffy charity or something
>instead of helping a bunch of fluffies, you helped one
>you just want to be a good owner, but you’re not sure what to do
>you look up tips online, but you don’t find much about PTSD fluffies
>speaking of the PTSD, the flashbacks are becoming less and less frequent
>you think she’s finally opening up to humans again
>your friend came over the other day, and she kind of avoided him
>since you were with him most of the time, she must’ve figured he was okay
>she asked him to play with her, give her food, the usual stuff
>it’s good to know she’s getting back to normal
>whatever her normal is
>she says she’s Derpy, and she looks like Derpy
>but she doesn’t act much like Derpy
>as your friend pointed out, she has a much better vocabulary than other fluffies, and it certainly seems like Derpy of all ponies wouldn’t have that
>the thought makes you feel uneasy for some reason, but you have bigger issues
>like the flying
>you finally taught her how to use her wings
>she can’t get more than an inch or two off of the ground, but she’s ecstatic
>she can fly for about two seconds before she smacks back down
>this hasn’t stopped her from doing crazy things, though
>she jumped off of the porch yesterday and smacked into the grass
>she gave herself a nosebleed, but that healed itself up
>she knocked over a lamp, but it landed on top of her
>there’s now a bruise on her back
>and today was the worst by far
>she went up the stairs, and grabbed a bunch of clothes
>she stepped on the pile of clothes and flapped up to the railing
>and then she jumped off and landed on a wall-mounted lightbulb, shattering it
>she started crying about her “hawt ouchies” and “weggie boo-boo juice”
>she got a mild shock that singed her fluff and cut her front legs
>you clipped off the burnt fur and wrapped each leg in a giant cotton bandage
>she’s afraid of scissors, it seems
>the fluff grows back in no time, but the bandages stay for a few more days
>the prosthetic leg is no longer a problem
>after you gave her a stern warning, she takes many precautions to not damage it
>she lands on her front hooves when she falls, and kicks things with the real back leg
>you taught yourself how to repair the straps on your own
>turns out it’s incredibly simple, and they’re intended to break so the cheap-ass can get more cash
>turns out the plastic was made to shatter from a small fall as well
>you remove the fluff from the prosthetic, and layer it with a bunch of fleece, cotton balls, whatever you can get your hands on
>you’re no MacGyver, but at least it works
>you slip the fur cover back on, and Derpy tells you all about how it “make weggie wahm”
>she can do whatever she wants with it now, and she makes the most of it
>she runs around a lot more and is generally much more eager to play “weggie games”
>you head back to that cheap-ass vet and steal some of the pet care magazines because fuck him
>you skim through them, but you don’t find anything particularly interesting or helpful
>you decide to hold on to them, anyways
>you figure you might need them later
>all things considered, Derpy's probably gonna hurt herself in ways you can't even imagine
>you can picture it now
>getting tied up in a ball of yarn, jumping off of the bed face first, getting smooshed with heavy objects
>ugh, that last one was pretty dark
>either way, you put them in your bedroom for later
>I mean, hey, maybe you'll need to know how to treat an overactive thyroid sometime