Spike

You know how some people treat their pets as people.  I am not into that.  However, I do enjoy being a plant mother.  And being a bit of a hypocrite, I have a plant with a name, a history, and a bit of a personality.  My plant's name is Spike.  He is spikey, and yes, he's a he.  Don't ask me why.  Maybe because Spike isn't a great girl's name.  I got Spike as a tiny little 8-inch plant from a high school friend who was giving away center pieces from her sister's wedding.  This occurred in 2002, I believe.  I have had Spike ever since.  Our first summer together I watered him once.  He survived.  He has lived in several basement apartments and survived without sun for long periods of time--sometimes under the care of long-term babysitters like Jill and Allison.  Several times I have forgotten to turn him, and he has grown crooked.  Some of my friends actually know who/what I'm talking about when I refer to him by name.  He has moved at least 9 times with me, and while he wilted every time he also perked up again.  Except this past move.  I put Spike in the car and took him from FoCo to Longmont, and he wilted.  He was so wilted that his leaves didn't revive after a big drink.  I was SO WORRIED, but I had a plane to catch.  When I returned 2 weeks later, Spike had only one green leaf sticking out of a bunch of dead, whitish leaves, and a tiny little green tuft at the top.  I was sure I'd finally killed Spike.  I called all my friends who would sympathize.  I mean, if I couldn't keep an almost unkillable plant alive, could I ever be a mother or even a good aunt?!  I guessed no and was sad.  But....
Happy news!!  The little green tuft at Spike's top began to grow!  Hooray!  I have not killed my beloved Spike, just permanently scarred him, most likely.  I'm so glad to have him back.