Fluffy turning on the charm
We met Fluffy for the first time in 2009, when he and his three amigos came to stay at Paws for Thought. Four cats in a family pen always makes for a lively time, and Fluffy and his cat family were no exception. Maybe they were extra boisterous because they wished to protest about how cold it was in this country.
They had been rescued from the streets of Gibraltar by an English woman living there. She couldn’t resist their beautiful eyes, their soft fur and their insistence that they were going to live with her from now on. She could put them out of her kitchen, but back they’d come every time. When she returned to live in Braintree, she brought her four rescued charmers with her. Maybe they missed the sun, but it was a good life, on the whole – a warm home and an owner who adored them.
But all good things come to an end. By the autumn of 2020, Fluffy found himself almost alone. With his owner seriously ill, Fluffy came to stay at Paws for Thought while his owner was in hospital. His three cat comrades had passed away by then. For a cat who loved company, being alone in a pen for days and then weeks wasn’t much fun. We spent a lot of time with him, holding him and letting him snuggle into our necks and purr. But at the end of the evening we’d go back to the house for the night. Fluffy would be left in his pen, howling for us to come back. It was hard to walk away from a cat that sounded so miserable.
When his owner made arrangements to go into a care home, she asked us to help her find a good home for Fluffy. He was elderly by now, almost completely deaf and walking a little stiffly. We knew that if he went to a rescue shelter, his beautiful green eyes wouldn’t charm him a home with any family determined to adopt a kitten. He might spend his last few years watching other cats being carried past his cage on their way to their new homes.
Luckily, we knew a family with good references from their cats and a vacancy for the right feline. Though I must admit I forgot how long we’d known Fluffy, and told them he was twelve. When his passaporte arrived on their table, the first thing they said was “Wow – he’s sixteen!” They picked him up and he turned on the ol’ charm with them – snuggled his head into their necks and purred like an expensive car. Within a week he’d claimed his places in the house, and was snoozing on their bed with a smug look on his face.
We still hear reports of how Fluffy’s getting on, and I think he’s landed in clover there. He runs up and down his new garden like a kitten, enjoys the warmth from the stove in winter and follows his new people around in case they happen to drop some food he can helpfully clear up for them. Better still, he has a new cat sister who adores him – Genie is young and full of energy, but she comes to snuggle next to Fluffy at night, and he looks down on her like a big brother.
It’s not often a Spaniard comes to Braintree to retire, but I think Fluffy would recommend it.
