In my Thursday Thirteen entry last week, I mentioned the "gift" that Fluffy left for me and Hubby. I think that was the first time I’ve ever mentioned Fluffy in my blog and it’s only fair that I give an explanation of how this wonderful kitty fits into our family dynamic.
Fluffy isn’t really "my" cat – he just thinks he lives at my house. His real family lives across the street from me, but Fluffy doesn’t like living indoors. He’ll go inside long enough to make sure everyone is still there, maybe grab a bite to eat, and then he’s off again to explore the neighborhood. He’s such a good kitty that he never has a problem finding somebody to love him, feed him, groom him, or fuss over him. You can tell by looking at him that he’s a well-cared for kitty. Well fed and always groomed. He’ll sit still longer than any kitty I’ve every known if you get out the brush and the comb. But if you get out the scissors to clip a tangle or a burr and he’s off like a shot.
Fluffy has a schedule and a routine and if you aren’t there when he’s expecting you to be there, he just wanders off to the next family. He comes to my house when Hubby is leaving for work in the morning for breakfast, wanders back about the time I get home from work for supper, and then stops by about 9 p.m. to make sure we’re all in for the evening. It’s not unusual to find him asleep in Hubby’s boat, on the neighbors porch swing, or under a chair on the deck. A couple of years ago, Hubby was concerned about Fluffy spending the night outside during the winter, so he made Fluffy a little kitty house that sits on our front porch. It’s a nice sturdy little house that blocks the wind and has a nice little kitty bed and food and water bowls. He’ll stick his head in it far enough to eat his food and get a drink of water, but that’s about it. I don’t think Fluffy has ever spent a night inside that house.
Even Luci has been won over by Fluffy’s charm. She’s fascinated with that cat and Fluffy will let Luci chase him around the back yard. When Fluffy has decided that he’s had enough fun, he’ll stop running and just sit so Luci can sniff all over him. I know that Fluffy can take care of himself if he had to, but he’s never once hissed at Luci or bared his claws at her.
Fluffy is also a very good hunter. There have been many mornings that Hubby has said to me that I don’t want to look too close at the flower bed or the front walk because there is some sort of gift that Fluffy has left for us. I know that he’s being nice and "sharing" his prize, but blech. Who wants to see something like that first thing in the morning? That’s probably the only thing I don’t like about Fluffy.
I guess you could call Fluffy the only four legged kid I’ve ever had that grew up and moved out on his own . . .