Wednesday, August 12, 2015


Before we had our human babies, we had four fur babies.

Our first fur baby, Fluffy, came with the house (she belonged to my MIL - who we bought house from - but decided she wanted to stay where she was).

Lizzy was found by some friends of ours on the side of the road when she was six months old, so we took her in.

Kipper was also found by the same friends a year later (they are stray pet magnets), and we took him in, too. He was only about 6 weeks old at the time.

Hershey found us when he was a kitten - so small that he could fit through the hole in our chain link fence - about two years later.

Sweet fur babies! They are all gone now ... we miss them MUCH.

I have loads of stories about our fur babies, but there's one in particular I want to share.

First, more backstory --

Despite her name, Fluffy was not, well, fluffy. I mean, she was not a cuddly thing. She'd want to be petted for about 6.8 seconds, then she'd scratch you and walk away.

Needless to say, she and I weren't very close.

Fast forward three years -- at that time, there were some wild dogs roaming our neighborhood. (Have I mentioned that we live in the boonies?) These critters had injured a few small pets, but kept managing to allude the animal control guys.

Now, Fluffy had a bad habit of using our furniture as a scratching post. One night, as she was sharpening her claws, Hubby had "HAD IT!" with her and sent her outside.

In the dark.

With wild dogs roaming around.

I was NOT amused.

I laid on the guilt as thick as I could, but nothing worked. "What if something happens to her?! What if those dogs get her?!" But he would not be moved.

The next morning, as I walked to the car to go to work, I noticed a gray lump in the road in front of our house. Hubs went to investigate and said that it was Fluffy, and that she was gone.

Now, remember the part where I said Fluff and I were not close? Well, I began BAWLING. I mean, seriously ugly crying here. As Hubs wrapped up her little body in a trash bag and buried her in our backyard, I left for work and cried like a baby discussed Fluffy's demise and burial on the phone with my mom.

About an hour after I got to work, Hubs called me. The conversation went like this:

Hubs: "Fluffy's alive!"
Me: "That's not funny!"
H: "No! Seriously! It was another cat that was dead, not her. She's right here beside me."
M: "Let me talk to her!" (yes, I did.)
Fluffy: "Meow!" (yes, he did.)

Apparently, while Hubs was sitting there playing a video game grieving Fluffy, he heard a "meow" outside of his office door. And there she was, alive and well!

Later, I called my mom to tell her the good news:

Me: "Mom! Fluffy's alive! She just showed up at Hubby's office door. He even put her on the phone so I could talk to her!"

Long pause...

Mom (in a slightly confused and questioning voice): "That's great ... but ... how did she get out of the trash bag?"

It's a MIRACLE! :)

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