PodgeThePuffer's World

Fluffy The Cat

I’ll always remember dear old Fluffy. He was my first real friend and in those early years, we were inseparable.  Which was a bit of a shame really as it transpired that I was highly allergic to cats, especially longhaired ones such as Fluffy was. So you can imagine my dismay when I learnt that Fluffy had left us and gone to seek out new friends and adventures in the local woods. Obviously, I was distraught and yet somehow I was able to reconcile myself to this news as I also knew that while I was allergic to him, I suspected that he might have been allergic to me which was why he had become so ill: I knew that at least in the woods, he would get better and hopefully make some new friends.

I feel I should explain a little more: fill in the gaps so to speak.

I don’t really know how long Fluffy and I had been together but it can’t have been long as I think I was still running around in khaki shorts; only the bigger boys wore long trousers in those [1050’s] days. Fluffy was everything to me, a sort of living noo noo / comfort blanket. During those long winter nights, Fluffy would curl up on my lap and keep me warm (central heating and electric blankets was science fiction in those days) and his constant purring was always a comfort to me and helped me fall asleep. So often however, I would wake in the night fighting for breath where Fluffy had decided he wanted to snuggle closer. It would appear that Asthma and cats do not make good bed fellows (something that took me over 30 years to accept).

As Intimated, I never really knew how old Fluffy was, but I do know he seemed to have been around for as long as I could remember, so I guess that was forever in little persons speak. Anyway,at some point in his life, he developed some of of illness and his fur was missing where there was now a horrible wound that Fluffy kept licking. Daddy said he would take Fluffy to the animal doctor to see if he could make him better but he wouldn’t let me come with him. He said it was not a nice place to go as there was all sorts of scary animals and I wouldn’t Like it at all. so off went Daddy and Fluffy.

Later that day, Daddy returned and said that the animal doctor had looked at him and thought he might be able to do something for him but we should try putting some cream on his wound for a few days first then he would have another look.

Every day, I put this cream on Fluffy. Fluffy didn’t like the cream: Fluffy made such a fuss: Fluffy scratched me. But, I knew that we had to do this to make him better so I kept putting the cream on. I knew that if Fluffy was to get better then I just had to do it even if Fluffy did moan at me, and scratch me, I knew I had to do it. After a week, there was no progress: In fact, the wound seemed worse. Daddy was going to have to take Fluffy back to the animal doctor. He said he would take Fluffy while I was at school.

At the end of school, I rushed home to see how Fluffy was doing, only to be met by a glum faced Mummy and Daddy. Daddy said he was really really sorry but as he was getting out of the car to go into the vets, Fluffy somehow managed to escape from the car and run into the woods. I was somehow consoled by the knowledge that Fluffy was probaly with lots of cat friends now and I was sure thatFluffy would be happy there. Nevertheless, I was so upset that couldn’t settle to watch telly (yes, we did have telly in those days, but it didn’t start until early evening) or even eat my tea. So, I had an early night that night.

I think we all know what really happened to Fluffy, don’t we…