A Real Survivor.

Meet Spike.
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When you live in a downtown highrise you find yourself craving things green because you're so removed from nature. I bought this plant about a year ago and told Carol to make sure she watered him whenever I was gone.
One time, I was absent for nearly an entire month, hosting friends in our Florida house and attending author events in different places. When I got home, there was Spike, all healthy and green and looking great.
"Great job of taking care of Spike," I said. "He looks great!"
"I didn't," she said.
"Didn't what?"
"Didn't water him."
"Not even once?"
"No."
I reached into the pot and felt the soil, hard and crusty. Like something freeze-dried.
"Wow,"I said. "This guy's amazing."
Truly, there was nary a dried edge of leaf on Spike. He looked like an expensive, artificial plant. Perhaps I had his gender wrong. He's obviously as resilient as a Southern woman.

Spikeena? Ideas for names, anyone?