Portrait of a Cat: Mr. Fluffypants

The handsome Mr. Fluffypants
a.k.a. our Comforter in Chief
I call him the Elvis of cats because he has such a cool vibe. 

Mr.  Fluffypants was born on my parents' farm, the first Father's Day weekend after my dad died.  Our family had had terrible luck with cats that year (along with many other things).  My daughters were cat crazy though, and the one cat we had left was not a snuggler, wasn't child friendly at all.  I asked my mom to tame the kittens for us because we would want one.  My mom did a wonderful job of socializing the kittens.  When we visited for her birthday in July, the kittens were a bright spot during a celebration that was muted because we all missed my dad.  When we went back in August to pick out the kitten we would keep, they were all so terrific we had to leave with two instead of one.  My older daughter chose a silly guy with a mustache and white toes.  My younger chose a fluffy one who was happy to sit and cuddle all day.

The fluffy one was named Menda at first.  Then he was Mrs. Woolsey (after our sweet preschool teacher), but when my older daughter teased my younger about naming her boy cat "Mrs." he became Mr. Woolsey instead.  He was Sparkle for a time, and Sheepy, and more funny little names than I can count.  The one that stuck was Mr. Fluffypants.  It never fails to make me laugh when I say such a silly name, and he does indeed appear to be wearing fluffy pants.  Oh, we still call him Menda occasionally, but mostly he's Fluffypants.

This picture was taken not long after Menda, as he was known then, came home.  Notice the bloody knuckles on my daughter's hand?  The kitten came to see why she was crying. As soon as she picked him up, she was okay.

This picture kind of says it all.  This is what she does
first thing in the morning every day.

My daughter who chose him is an extraordinary person.  She learns faster than I can teach, has a mind that just doesn't stop.  She sees the world in such unique ways I can't wait for her to grow up so I can see how she's going to change it.  She's also very sensitive.  Small things that I wouldn't even notice can make or ruin her day.  When she was a baby she didn't sleep and was clingy but didn't want to be held.  We couldn't figure her out.  After Mr. Fluffypants came home though, she had someone who understood her perfectly.  If she was upset, she'd hide herself away with her little kitten and they'd commune.  A few minutes with him fixed every problem in the world.  Kindergarten was particularly hard on her.  She spent a good part of the year crying in her teacher's office because no one knew what to do for her.  She'd come home to our Comforter in Chief though, and all was well.  She read to him, drew pictures of him, told him about her day.  Soon, she'd come out of her room, all sunshine and smiles.  Life was good.  She'd tell me about her friends at school.  The tears weren't important anymore.  As the years have passed she has learned to manage her world.  She doesn't get as upset as she used to, and she can express what's wrong when she is unhappy.  Still though, she and Mr. Fluffypants have an invaluable bond.  He greets her when she comes home.  Curls up wherever she is.

His willingness to comfort has touched us all at some point.  Even this winter, our old dog was in liver failure.  He had a terrible seizure and when it was over was afraid.  Mr. Fluffypants walked over to the dog, rubbed on his head and licked him, obviously trying to help him feel better.  We all love Mr. Fluffypants.  No one loves him as much as his girl though, and he returns every bit of her affection.