You know what sucks? Printing the e-receipt from the veterinarian where you just had the best cat you’ve ever known put to sleep. Mr. Fluffypants really was the best cat I’ve ever known. (Why else would I name my blog after him?) He was always pliant and loveable when you needed him to be. A little playful and silly, but mostly loveable. He wasn’t the kind of cat who didn’t care what you wanted. He cared. He cared what you wanted, how you felt, if you needed a snuggle. He’s the reason one of my children made it through kindergarten, and first grade, and second grade. (School wasn’t her thing for a while. She’d cuddle him at the end of the day though, and all was right with the world.) Mr. Fluffypants was a lover, through and through. He’d hold your hand with his paw and aggressively snuggle, even if what he really wanted was some canned food.
Right now, my heart is breaking. I want to hear his big purr and feel his fluffy feet. I want my kids to laugh as they sing the funny song they made up for him. I want to tease him about being smelly (his only flaw). That is not to be though. It’s just me and my sad heart, not looking forward to telling the kids.
