Mr. Fluffypants 7/20/2009 - 11/6/2020

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. 

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.

Indoor Cats

The glorious Mr. Fluffypants

When I was a kid, cats were strictly outdoor animals.  (Okay, at our farm all animals were outdoor only animals.  My parents were old school that way.)  I always wanted one to sleep with me but my mom was having none of that.  I grew up, got a house of my own complete with cats and dogs.  They were indoor/outdoor animals. The cats got to sleep with me but also hunt birds, climb trees and all the things cats enjoy doing.  I had kids.  My kids love animals the way I do, but one of my children is C. R. A. Z. Y.  about cats.  She's also quite sensitive and when something goes wrong with her day,  it can sometimes ruin her whole world.  She has a special bond with one of our cats, Mr. Fluffypants. He's become something of a therapy animal for her.  He can instantly sooth her, bringing the sunshine back to her life with willing cuddles and licks.

Freddy and Mr. Fluffypants birdwatching.

One day, Mr. Fluffypants decided to act like a cat and pretend he couldn't hear us calling him in at night. He sat on the neighbor's deck, in plain view, and just looked at us as we begged him to come home.  For three days.  That was a pretty long three days for us as we tried to minimize his disappearance for our daughter.  After that we were hesitant every time we let him out, and kept a close eye on him.  I trained the cats to come running at the sound of a spoon on a plate.  Then we moved.  Twice in a year.  Moving with cats can be tricky.  They'll sometimes try to go back to the old home, or get in trouble with unfamiliar streets or animals.  It was important to keep all of our pets safe during this time, so all three cats became indoor only animals.  I feel a little guilty even though I know it's for their safety,  even though I have an enhanced interest in keeping Mr. Fluffypants safe for our daughter's sake.  I know life in a house is dull for a cat, they are natural roamers and hunters. Toys and kids are fun but I'm sure my cats miss climbing trees and really sunning themselves on fences.  I've hung a bird feeder where my cats can sit in a windowsill and watch them eat.  I did it thinking it would entertain them, and it does.  I do wonder though, if it's more of a cruelty to show them what they can't have.  They sit and chitter at the birds, noses almost pressed to the glass.   Our cats are safe, but are we cheating them?

It was a pretty good show this morning.