Puffer Kitty

So far, my stay at home has been relatively uneventful which is fairly nice. Since my parents still spend their days working I am left at home alone to fend for myself. Luckily I have my favorite companion Puff here to keep me company. Puff, is my precious kittie kat and I cannot put into words how much I love him, although I am going to try.
I don’t think I would appreciate Puff as much as I do if it hadn’t been for the previous Beach pet, Smudge. Smudge was what many would typically define as felis catus domesticus or domestic cat although I would define him as diabolus liber or devils child. My brother found the lucky devil at the Mission Bay Yacht Club one night when we were both wee children (grade school and elementary). The poor creature was shivering and barely two weeks old and after many tears and wistful looks (and my brother threatening to run away and live with the cat) my parents decided to let him take the cat home under the condition that it would be Kevin’s responsibility. Kevin named him Smudge and immediately transferred all remaining care taking duties to my parents. My parents did a wonderful job raising Kevin and I, but things really went south with Smudge. The thing was fuc*ing psycho. I’m not sure what we were expecting considering we found him on the beach but Smudge wanted nothing to do with his domestic responsibilities, i.e. snuggling on your lap, playing with fuzzy little balls you threw at him, eating from a cat bowl; usual catly duties. Some of his favorite activities included catching little lizards and playing with them for a while before eventually eating them, hiding behind the couch and pouncing on my head, or hiding under my bad and attacking my feet as I walked by.
Needless to say, when I found Smudge in a box on our doorstep with a note reading “I think this is your cat – Bob”, I wasn’t too torn up. In fact my mom found me several hours later in the backyard wearing yellow rubber gloves poking and prodding the dead cat. The story the coroner (neighbor) reported was that Smudge had been hit by a car. I think that Smudge was likely playing Chicken with every passing vehicle and had finally met his match. I wanted to take Smudge’s dead body to show and tell but my parents disposed of the body before I could sneak it in my backpack.
With the untimely (perfect) demise of our beloved (my feelings were more ambivalent) Smudge, it became evident that there was a void in the family. My mom marched herself down to the animal shelter in hopes of finding a suitable replacement for our fallen loved one. When she picked me up from school that day there was a box in the back seat and when I looked in all I could see was puffs of orange hair sticking out of the air holes. I was soo excited (clapping hands)!! We took the un-named cat home from school and fed him. Upon finishing his meal my brother burst into the kitchen and immediately picked up the new addition to the family. Almost immediately the cat puked up his meal all over my brothers back. I knew I was the start of a beautiful friendship. My mom let me name him, and after much, much, much though and deliberation I resolutely decided on the name Puff.
Unfortunately my first experiences with my new best friend were not much more successful than my brothers. As it turned out, I was allergic to the puff ball. Not like, a couple sneezes, more like after petting him my entire body would itch, my eyes would become itchy and red and swollen and my nose would start running like a racehorse (I think that’s a much better analogy than peeing like a racehorse). Yes, a slight bump in the road but I wouldn’t let it stop me. When I found a dead bird under my bed one day I knew Puff loved me just as much as I loved him. I tried to take the dead bird to show and tell as well but again, my mom discarded the body before I could even begin to play with it. This fateful event forced my mother to purchase Puff a new collar with a bell on it. This heavily impeded his mighty hunting abilities.
As the years went by (and our friendship grew) my allergies began to recede. But by this time Puff had found someone he loved more than me. My mom fed him and my dad was actually able to pet him and soon I went off to college where his memory of me faded into kittie oblivion. I was crushed. After all of those years spent trying to bond with him; putting a leash on him and walking him around the block, lightly transferring him from my window to the tree outside to see if he would be able to climb down, and picking him up and putting him around my neck like a fur stole, all in vain.
Puff is no longer the athletic sprite he once was (actually he hated exercise; I don’t even think he can stay awake longer than four hours a day). He was recently diagnosed with a thyroid disorder (like owner, like pet!) and somewhere along the way he lost his hearing. This seemed to happen around the same time my nephew began learning how to walk and talk which makes me think that his loss of hearing was more a blessing than a curse. He’s suffering from old age as well; he’s always grumpy and he thinks he can sit wherever he wants (he can’t he has a blanket he can sit on. That’s it). I think he’s also a bit senile as he seems to forget when he ate and always thinks its meal time. He can’t clean himself anymore which means that at night my dad takes the scissors to the poor creatures’ fur and cuts off huge chunks of tangled hair balls. Oooh, he just yawned and his teeth aren’t looking so good either.
But old age or not, he’s still the most beautiful, loving cat I have ever known. Right now he’s sitting on the desk nest to me and can’t get down because it’s too much of a jump down, he’s looking at me for help but I keep ignoring him, hee hee ;). And I’m sure he loves me just as much as I love him (actually he would rather have absolutely nothing to do with me as I still don’t feed him).
So let’s raise a glass and say a toast for my true home-boy Puff!