In Loving Memory

My Son and I were heading out to the 4th of July Fireworks when he was just five years old.  As we were buckling up in the car we heard a cat crying.  We stopped to determine where the noise was coming from, and a scrawny cat jumped onto the hood of our car.  He looked right at us through the windshield and cried.  "He needs Help!", and looking at the cat I had to agree with my Son.

My Son and I chatted about our options.  Taking in a pet is a lot of work, and if he's sick he may not be with us for long.  Soon, we had a cat in the car and instead of watching fireworks we headed to the local store.  Looking at the filthy emaciated cat, my Son humorously named him "Fluffy".  After purchasing all of the necessities for cat care, we returned to the car and "Fluffy" was curled up on the seat waiting for us.

The cat was covered in oil and fleas, so the first task was to try and clean him up.  We spent a half hour bathing the cat who took the bathtub surprisingly well.  Dead and struggling fleas streamed down the drain, then became a trickle, and finally seemed to be gone.  We were pretty sure Fluffy was mostly black when we found him, but as we dried him we found a Silver Tabby had been hiding under all of the filth.  On went the flea collar.

A full can of cat food went down in little time, and I laid a beach towel on my bed so that he could sleep on something clean without ruining a comforter.  Little spots of blood oozed where the fleas had vacated in a hurry.  When I woke up I found him curled up back on the towel, but the food bowl was empty.

We took him to the Veterinarian as soon as they were open.  Once there, he received another immersive flea bath, immunizations, and an antibiotic to help him with infections from the fleas.  The Vet did not give him a high chance of survival due to the fleas and severe emaciation.  I'd have to run back a sample to test for parasites to know for sure.  Even though the Vet estimated his age at 7 months, he told us to get canned kitten food to fatten him up.  If he made it through the next month we could schedule him for follow up appointments.

Fluffy displayed his most pervasive traits, stubborn and tough.  He put on enough weight to be considered healthy, and even though he continued to eat two cans of canned food, dry food, and daily treats for his teeth, he never became a heavy cat.  His max weight was about twelve pounds, so he was always considered small.


My Son and I not only had a cat, but we had fish.  Fluffy used to watch the fish, and seemed to wish he could catch one.  One day while I was cleaning the tank he tried, jumping into a 35 gallon tank.  Even though he got another bath, he smelled like fish tank for a couple days.  He never tried that again, but we did put a goldfish in a bowl for him to see up close.  He tapped at the goldfish with his paw and was startled that it moved on it's own.  From then on, he was content to simply watch the fish in the tank and hang out for attention when I cleaned and fed the fish.

Fluffy was my buddy, and a member of my family.  For seventeen and a half years he would meet me at the door when I got home from work, climb on my lap for petting, sleep between my feet on the bed, and sit outside the shower waiting for me to get clean.  Sometimes yelling "Are you crazy, get out of that water!" while I was in the shower. 

He was tough and playful, but also cuddled when he thought we needed it.  Fluffy watched over my son, another rescued cat, and me for longer than most cats live.

Around the time Fluffy turned seventeen, he started to have problems holding down his food.  The Vet said it was probably cancer in his spleen since there was a good amount of swelling.  There were some other symptoms as well, such as severe irritation on his stomach and a sinus infection.  The Vet told us that at his age, he may not make it through the biopsy process.  We put him on  medication to help him keep his food down and changed his diet for something easier on his body.  We treated what became a chronic sinus infection the best we could, and all of the minor symptoms as they came.  The medicines and treatments worked for longer than expected.

Just before Fluffy's eighteenth birthday, around Christmas time, he became very ill.  We were able to get him stable, but he ended up losing sight in his right eye, and had difficulty seeing with his left.  I knew something was really wrong with Fluffy.  Over the next month he would burrow into my arms and just wanted to be held and comforted.  He would eat with help, but drinking was becoming difficult.  He finally lost all sight in both eyes.

On January 12, 2017, Fluffy went to sleep for the last time.  I am thankful for all of the time we had as a family, and happy he is at peace.  I miss him very much.