Fluffy Cat Quotes

She sat one of the fluffy cats in my lap and stuffed the other down my shirt. She turned and left. 'There,' said the large man. 'The kittens will make your sad go away.

You're like a crazy cat lady, but you collect killers instead of fluffy cats." "I don't collect killers." "Yes, you do, and those who aren't killers turn into killers by the time you're done. You made Julie into a maniac. That child has more knives on her than a squad of the PAD.

The man walked past me and stopped, observing the blood running down my neck. "Your injury. Let us tend to it." He looked out through the open doorway and silently gestured to someone out there. "Our world," he said, "is far more advanced than yours. For reasons you'll understand shortly." A thin, bony, naked woman entered the room, carrying two small, white kittens. She sat one of the fluffy cats in my lap and stuffed the other down my shirt. She turned and left. "There," said the large man. "The kittens will make your sad go away.

Every evil overlord needs a fluffy cat to stroke.

Oh dear, is that a skunk?" Leonora asked. "No," Alessandro gasped in horror. "No the smelly cat!" "I've told you, Alessandro darling, they aren't cats." "They look like cats. Like the big fluffy cat she's been stepped on and flattened to a big fluffy pancake cat," Alessandro argued.

I scooped the cat up and snuggled him against my chest for comfort. He was warm and soft, a smooth fluffy ball of fur in my arms. I'd cuddled up with the little guy countless times over the years without thinking much about it, but now, for the first time ever, it occurred to me that maybe this little act of comfort was what life was all about.

Sophronia and Dimity took a vacant love seat at the front, Sophronia dislodging a large, fluffy cat with a scrunched-up face. The cat gave her a disgusted look. Or seemed to; it was hard to tell with that face.

I've been told that my belly is soft as a fluffy cloud. No one can resist my magical belly. Not even grumpy humans.

I've learned to live simply, wisely I've learned to live simply, wisely, To look at the sky and pray to God, And to take long walks before evening To wear out this useless anxiety. When the burdocks rustle in the ravine And the yellow-red clusters of rowan nod, I compose happy verses About mortal life, mortal and beautiful life. I return. The fluffy cat Licks my palm and sweetly purrs. And on the turret of the sawmill by the lake A bright flame flares. The quiet is cut, occasionally, By the cry of a stork landing on the roof. And if you were to knock at my door, It seems to me I wouldn't even hear. (English version by Judith Hemschemeyer Original Language Russian)

Your injury. Let us tend to it.” He looked out through the open doorway and silently gestured to someone out there. “Our world,” he said, “is far more advanced than yours. For reasons you’ll understand shortly.” A thin, bony naked woman entered the room, carrying two small, white kittens. She sat one of the fluffy cats in my lap and stuffed the other down my shirt. She turned and left. “There,” said the large man. “The kittens will make your sad go away.

Our world,” he said, “is far more advanced than yours. For reasons you’ll understand shortly.” A thin, bony naked woman entered the room, carrying two small, white kittens. She sat one of the fluffy cats in my lap and stuffed the other down my shirt. She turned and left. “There,” said the large man. “The kittens will make your sad go away.

I've been told that my belly is soft as a fluffy cloud. No one can resist my magical belly. Not even grumpy humans.

Even Mrs. Kew’s fluffy white cat wore a lace bow.

I went to the happy place in my mind for a moment, the pink and white fluffy place with bluebirds and gentle babbling streams and, now, a semi-bald cat purring noisily.

This cat isn't mad,' said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroke Crookshanks's fluffy head.'He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met...

You’re like a crazy cat lady, but you collect killers instead of fluffy cats.” “I don’t collect killers.” “Yes, you do, and those who aren’t killers turn into killers by the time you’re done. You made Julie into a maniac. That child has more knives on her than a squad of the PAD. Christopher was the only stray who couldn’t fight, and now it turns out he’s a god of terror. Why am I not surprised?

Sometimes when you feel like a piece of garbage, or an alien from another planet, or more like a weapon than a real person, you have to be nice to yourself to remember how to feel human again. It's like taking care of a pet. You like cats, right? If you had a cat I know you would be buying it catnip and cat toys and fancy all-meat cat food and some kind of crazy deluxe cat bed. You'd be petting it all the time, and brushing its fur out every day so it was all fluffy and everything, right? Even if you were feeling like shit you'd take care of the cat, because that's just what you have to do when you have responsibility for an innocent animal that can't take care of itself.” “I'm the c-cat?” “Yeah, you're the cat.

Edging past her into a small, cluttered kitchen, I was greeted by a fluffy black-and-white cat who wove around my ankles, purring. 'That's Aphra,' said Letty, nudging her with the stick. 'She belongs to my daughter but seems to prefer me. Cats are terrible sodomites. No, I don't mean sodomites, I mean parasites. Would you like some tea?

He raised his arm to strike me. At that very moment, [my daughter] Meiping's cat, Fluffy, came through the kitchen door, jumped on the man's leg from behind, and sank his teeth into the flesh of the man's calf.

Seriously. Like, insanely adorable. Those little paws, that tiny nose, those great big eyes… And that belly! That glorious, fluffy, mushy little kitty belly! It’s enough to drive an otherwise sane and sober adult to helpless, babbling lunacy.

Lazily...possessively he ran a hand down her back. "Mmm, again," Shelby murmured. With a quiet laugh, Alan stroked up and down until she was ready to purr. "Shelby..." She gave another sigh as an answer and snuggled closer. "Shelby,there's something warm and fluffy under my feet." "Mmm-hmm." "If it's your cat, he's not breathing." "MacGregor." He kissed the top of her head. "What?" She gave a muffled laugh against his shoulder. "MacGregor," she repeated. "My pig." There was silence for a moment while he tried to digest this. "I beg your pardon?" The dry serious tone had more laughter bubbling up. Would she ever be able to face a day without hearing it? "Oh, say that again.I love it." Because she had to see his face, Shelby found the energy to lean across him and grope for the matches on the nightstand. Skin rubbed distractedly against skin while she struck one and lit a candle. "MacGregor," she said, giving Alan a quick kiss before she gestured to the foot of the bed. Alan studied the smiling porcine face. "You named a stuffed purple pig after me?" "Alan, is that any way to talk about our child?" His eyes shifted to hers in an expression so masculine and ironic, she collapsed on his chest in a fit of giggles. "I put him there because he was supposed to be the only MacGregor who charmed his way into my bed." "Really." Alan tugged on her hair until she lifted her face, full of amusement and fun,to his. "Is that what I dd?" "You knew damn well I wouldn't be able to resist balloons and rainbows foever.

PROLOGUE   Zoey “Wow, Z, this is a seriously awesome turnout. There are more humans here than fleas on an old dog!” Stevie Rae shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked around at the newly lit-up campus. Dallas was a total jerk, but we all admitted that the twinkling lights he’d wrapped around the trunks and limbs of the old oaks gave the entire campus a magickal, fairy-like glow. “That is one of your more disgusting bumpkin analogies,” Aphrodite said. “Though it’s accurate. Especially since there are a bunch of city politicians here. Total parasites.” “Try to be nice,” I said. “Or at least try to be quiet.” “Does that mean your daddy, the mayor, is here?” Stevie Rae’s already gawking eyes got even wider. “I suppose it does. I caught a glimpse of Cruella De Vil, a.k.a. She Who Bore Me, not long ago.” Aphrodite paused and her brows went up. “We should probably keep an eye on the Street Cats kittens. I saw some cute little black and white ones with especially fluffy fur.” Stevie Rae sucked air. “Ohmygoodness, your mamma wouldn’t really make a kitten fur coat, would she?” “Faster than you can say Bubba’s drinkin’ and drivin’ again,” Aphrodite mimicked Stevie Rae’s Okie twang. “Stevie Rae—she’s kidding. Tell her the truth,” I nudged Aphrodite. “Fine. She doesn’t skin kittens. Or puppies. Just baby seals and democrats.” Stevie Rae’s brow furrowed. “See, everything is fine. Plus, Damien’s at the Street Cats booth, and you know he’d never let one little kitten whisker be hurt—let alone a whole coat,” I assured my BFF, refusing to let Aphrodite mess up our good mood. “Actually, everything is more than fine. Check out what we managed to pull off in a little over a week.” I sighed in relief at the success of our event and let my gaze wander around the packed school grounds. Stevie Rae, Shaylin, Shaunee, Aphrodite, and I were manning the bake sale booth (while Stevie Rae’s mom and a bunch of her PTA friends moved through the crowd with samples of the chocolate chip cookies we were selling, like, zillions of). From our position near Nyx’s statue, we had a great view of the whole campus. I could see a long line at Grandma’s lavender booth. That made me smile. Not far from Grandma, Thanatos had set up a job application area, and there were a bunch of humans filling out paperwork there. In the center of the grounds there were two huge silver and white tents draped with more of Dallas’s twinkling lights. In one tent Stark and Darius and the Sons of Erebus Warriors were demonstrating weaponry. I watched as Stark was showing a young boy how to hold a bow. Stark’s gaze lifted from the kid and met mine. We shared a quick, intimate smile

You bought that monster?” said Ron, his mouth hanging open. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” said Hermione, glowing. That was a matter of opinion, thought Harry. The cat’s ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione’s arms.

She would've sworn the cat- or kitten, for it sounded quite small- was right in front of her, but there was nothing there. She straightened and glanced at Val. His azure eyes were alight with amusement. "Phantom cats and ghostly kittens." She frowned at him. "I don't believe in ghosts." "Boring." He kissed her on the nose and, while she was still blinking in surprise, leaned down and did something to the back of the cupboard. Suddenly one of the boards came away in his hands. She leaned down again to look. Staring back at them was a ginger cat, her green eyes wide, and at her teats were a row of wriggling kittens in a rainbow of colors. She was curled in the small space of what was evidently a false back to the cupboard. "But how did she get in?" Bridget breathed, enchanted. The kittens were at that wee fluffy stage and absolutely adorable. "Magic," Val said promptly, and then, more prosaically, "or the back of the cupboard's rotted away.

Come on,” I hooked my arm through Aphrodite’s and started to pull her to the Street Cats tent. “You haven’t been good enough to watch.” Before Aphrodite could argue, we were at the Street Cats booth, facing a beaming Sister Mary Angela. “Oh, good, Zoey and Aphrodite. I need the both of you.” The nun made a gracious gesture to the young family standing beside one of the kitten cages. “This is the Cronley family. They have decided to adopt both of the calico kittens. It’s so lovely that the two of them have found their forever homes together—they are unusually close, even for littermates.” “That’s great,” I said. “I’ll start on their paperwork.” “I’ll help you. Two cats—two sets of paperwork,” Aphrodite said. “We came with a note from our veterinarian,” the mom said. “I just knew we’d find our kitten tonight.” “Even though we didn’t expect to find two of them,” her husband added. He squeezed his wife’s shoulder and smiled down at her with obvious affection. “Well, we didn’t expect the twins, either,” his wife said, glancing over at the two girls who were still looking in the kitten cage and giggling at the fluffy calicos that would be joining their family. “That surprise turned out great, which is why I think the two kittens will be perfect as well,” said the dad. Like seeing Lenobia and Travis together—this family made my heart feel good. I had started to move to the makeshift desk with Aphrodite when one of the little girls asked, “Hey mommy, what are those black things?” Something in the child’s voice had me pausing, changing direction, and heading to the kitten cage. When I got there I instantly knew why. Within the cage the two calico kittens were hissing and batting at several large, black spiders. “Oh, yuck!” the mom said. “Looks like your school might have a spider problem.” “I know a good exterminator if you need a recommendation,” the dad said. “We’re gonna need a shit ton more than a good exterminator,” Aphrodite whispered as we stared into the kitten cage. “Yeah, uh, well, we don’t usually have bug issues here,” I babbled as disgust shivered up my back. “Eesh, Daddy! There are lots more of them.” The little blond girl was pointing at the back of the cage. It was so completely covered with spiders that it seemed to be alive with their seething movements. “Oh, my goodness!” Sister Mary Angela looked pale as she stared at the spiders that appeared to be multiplying. “Those things weren’t there moments ago.” “Sister, why don’t you take this nice family into the tent and get their paperwork started,” I said quickly, meeting the nun’s sharp gaze with my own steady one. “And send Damien out here to me. I can use his help to take care of this silly spider problem.” “Yes, yes, of course.” The nun didn’t hesitate. “Get Shaunee, Shaylin, and Stevie Rae,” I told Aphrodite, keeping my voice low. “You’re going to cast a circle in front of all of these

Orange fluff ball, Rocky is an 18-pound marvel of love, so fluffy, he looks like he’s 26 pounds. He scares the local dogs just by sitting and staring at them. Rocky’s there for me when I get home, purrs when he wants to, leads me to the food bowl when he needs to, licks me in an attempt to heal my wounds, loves cellophane, red ribbons, left over chicken. Rocky, my best friend, is my orange fluff ball, and I wish I could share him with the world. -- Scott C. Holstad, Northern Stars Magazine (2004)

He fed his cat Fluffy, washed up, and then ate breakfast.

No,” he said. “It’s perfect.” As was she. Not quite ready to break the moment, he gestured at the cat. The beast was sprawled on his back on the floor, legs akimbo, belly exposed. He looked like a fluffy throw rug. “How’s Captain doing?

“Chessie?” I ask. The rest of the hamster-size creature materializes, looking just as I remember: the face of a kitten, the wings of a hummingbird, and the body of an orange and gray raccoon. He flits to the dashboard and perches there, cleaning the oil and grease splotches from his fluffy fur with his tongue, like a squirrel taking a spit bath.

February 27 Devoted Gazes of a Slave But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. —Romans 6:22 It was bitterly cold and raining, as I went to the barn to get horse feed. In the darkness, I could barely see a patch of white in the hay. “not a good idea to leave the poor thing,” I said to myself. Assuming it was a cat, I thought I bet I’m going to get scratched. But there was no resistance. As I slid my hand under the tiny animal, I realized it was a puppy. I tucked it deep into the folds of my jacket and walked back to the house. After vigorously rubbing her coat, I wrapped her in a big, fluffy towel—still shivering. As I entered the kitchen to get milk, her little body was leaning as far to the left as she could trying not to lose sight of me. I never found the owner and from that day, Chelsea was wholly devoted to me. None of my dogs ever doted on me like she did. She literally became my slave. Her gaze was constantly upon me. She was obedient and lived to bring pleasure. I tell this story to illustrate the loving gaze of the slave toward her master. She knows he has rescued her from certain death and even now has the power of life and death over her, yet she loves him for sparing her life. She watches him closely, trying to learn his wants and desires; she devotes herself to pleasing him. Her joy becomes his joy; and in the end, he blesses her with more than she has ever given him. Perhaps it’s been a while since you’ve gazed upon the one who has saved you from the slavery of sin. Would you return to worship at his feet with loving devotion, knowing that he will give you much more than you could ever sacrifice for Him?

find. Henry said she lived right across the hall.” Chapter 14 “So, this is the scene of the crime,” Ida said as they pulled up in front of an old Victorian. From outward appearances, it was hard to imagine that something sinister had happened inside. It was nicely kept, with off-white siding and purple trim. “Looks like a birthday cake,” Ruth said as they walked up the steps toward the purple door. She opened the door to reveal a small entryway. A set of stairs loomed in front of them. Old-fashioned green flowered wallpaper papered the walls. The floor was hardwood, scuffed from years of wear. To the right was a solid oak door with the number Two on it. “According to the case files, Rosa and Henry lived at number two.” Nans gestured toward the door on the other side of the hall which had a number One. “So this one must be Mrs. Pettigrew.” Ruth was standing closest to the door, so she knocked. “Who is it?” A voice drifted out almost before the knock stopped echoing. Clearly, Mrs. Pettigrew kept a close eye on the place and had seen them come in. “It’s the Ladies’ Detective Agency.” Nans’s voice took on an official tone. “We have some questions on a case if you’d be so kind as to answer them.” Of course, Doris Pettigrew would be thrilled to answer questions. If she was truly the busybody that it sounded like she was, she wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of gossip and finding out exactly what case the ladies were referring to. Lexy heard a series of locks clicking and chains sliding, and then the door cracked and a rheumy blue eye appeared. “Do you have any credentials?” “Of course.” Nans shoved a business card at her. It was in a laminate case, so it resembled an official badge of some sort. Doris snatched the card and pulled it inside. It took her a few seconds, but Nans’s card must have passed muster because the door opened and Doris said, “Come in.” Ida went in first. “Oh, this is… unusual.” Lexy peered over Ida’s head. She couldn’t be sure exactly what Ida thought was unusual. There were so many things. It could have been the giant four-foot-tall dolls that stood around the edge of the room. Or it might have been the knitted afghans that covered every surface. Or maybe it was the stuffed animals that were sitting on the couch as if holding a conversation. Then again, it might have been the herd of cats that was sniffing around Ida’s ankles. Doris handed the card back to Nans. “I’m Doris Pettigrew, by the way.” They all introduced themselves, and Doris gestured toward the living room for them to sit. Ida gingerly plucked a large pink elephant off the sofa and put it on the floor then took its place. A black cat immediately jumped into her lap. The rest of the ladies followed her lead, moving dolls aside, disturbing stuffed animals, and pushing cats out of their laps. Lexy sat in the only chair not occupied by a stuffed animal. The smell of mothballs wafted up as the rough wool of the crocheted granny square pillow irritated her arm. Achoo! Helen sneezed and pushed the fluffy tail of a white Persian out of her face.

Elle ducked low, peeking inside the carrier. It was difficult to see inside, with Cat tucked up in a tight little ball of dark, fluffy fur and glinting green eyes. “What’s her name?” Olivia blushed. “Cat.” Elle cocked her head, clearly confused. “How long have you had her?” “Um.” She did the math. “Almost eight months.” Elle frowned. “So . . . it’s not just a placeholder? Cat?” Margot huffed out a quiet laugh and Olivia’s stomach somersaulted at the sound. “It’s from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Holly Golightly names her—well, it isn’t hers, that’s the whole point. She names the cat Cat.” Margot’s lips twitched. “I’m assuming that’s where you got the name.

She sought advice about declaring herself as one of Them, but once it was explained to her that doing so would involve wearing hooded black robes, conducting secret meetings in vast underground caverns, and manipulating the destiny of millions on a twenty-four-hour basis, possibly while fondling a fluffy white cat, she realized that this would mean missing bridge club on Wednesdays; and since in any case cats gave Mrs. Pewter hay fever, she opted instead for a decoction of willow bark for whenever the voices in her head got too bad.

We love your pets. But Man's Best Friend is a hungry wolf to a bird, no matter the harmless, playful little scamp Fluffy may seem to you. And Athena, with her retractable claws, silent stalking, and high-jump pounce, is a bird-killing machine...The American Bird Conservancy estimates that in the United States, where the domesticated feline is a non-native predator disrupting the natural balance, cats slaughter 2.4 BILLION birds EACH YEAR. Keep cats indoors and dogs on the leash in protected areas, if they are permitted there at all. The birds--and other birders--will thank you.

Familiars were no secret in this town, and most people bonded for life with theirs. They weren’t just pets—they were part of the family.  The special bond you developed went beyond just pets and owners.  I’d had that once before—with my first cat, Binx—a big fluffy gray thing. The moment they had placed him in my arms at six years old, it was like I knew. He understood me, down to my soul. We had a connection that couldn’t be replicated. He’d been my familiar, my lifelong companion, and the creature of my heart.

When it comes down to it, I want my cat back. My itty bitty boy. My sweet fluffy stinky butt. Mew mew. Meowcifin. Bebe.

When Ellen announced that supper was ready Douglas Starr told Emily to go out to it. “I don’t want anything tonight. I’ll just lie here and rest. And when you come in again we’ll have a real talk, Elfkin.” He smiled up at her his old, beautiful smile, with the love behind it, that Emily always found so sweet. She ate her supper quite happily—though it wasn’t a good supper. The bread was soggy and her egg was underdone, but for a wonder she was allowed to have both Saucy Sal and Mike sitting, one on each side of her, and Ellen only grunted when Emily fed them wee bits of bread and butter. Mike had such a cute way of sitting up on his haunches and catching the bits in his paws, and Saucy Sal had her trick of touching Emily’s ankle with an almost human touch when her turn was too long in coming. Emily loved them both, but Mike was her favourite. He was a handsome, dark-grey cat with huge owl-like eyes, and he was so soft and fat and fluffy. Sal was always thin; no amount of feeding put any flesh on her bones. Emily liked her, but never cared to cuddle or stroke her because of her thinness. Yet there was a sort of weird beauty about her that appealed to Emily. She was grey-and-white—very white and very sleek, with a long, pointed face, very long ears and very green eyes. She was a redoubtable fighter, and strange cats were vanquished in one round. The fearless little spitfire would even attack dogs and rout them utterly. Emily loved her pussies. She had brought them up herself, as she proudly said. They had been given to her when they were kittens by her Sunday School teacher. “A living present is so nice,” she told Ellen, “because it keeps on getting nicer all the time.

As far as I’m concerned, everybody can fuck everybody and have whatever babies they want until we’re all a bunch of eight-legged dog-eared people with cat claws, fluffy bunny tails, and demon horns. Let the pieces fall where they fucking may.” “Fuck,” Slade laughed. “That’s one fucked up visual.

The only creatures in my whole dismal life who never once failed me were an overly fluffy black house cat and an eccentric Scottish bookseller.

I'll have you know that Dumpling, Rice Cake, and Sticky Bun are the noble offspring of the great Bright Mane," Sairu said, "descended in a long line of royal canines bred from the deified lineage of the Lordly Sun's own watchdogs." The cat gave her a look. "Really?" "Well, the come from the same kennels as the emperor's dogs, so that's close enough." "Useless yapping things, hardly what you'd call proper dogs. What's the point of them?" "They ward off devils." "Yet I'm still here. What else?" "They're fluffy." "I'm fluffy," said the cat. "You're a monster," said Sairu.

Cats are cute, fluffy fur balls. What your holding needs an exorcist.

What is your Purpose? Fluffy, The Cat sits on a couch all day. His food is served. He stares out of the window. Goes to sleep. Wakes up and takes a shit. Someone else wipes it. He chases a mouse. Plays with his toys, and Hugs his owners. He eats, shits, sleeps, and wakes again EVERYDAY, until he passes.

A couple of cats lounged in the window cuddled up next to a fluffy white dog. Out back, there was a tiny Chihuahua sunbathing with some black mutt.

Real estate is like skinning a cat. While it may have potential as an effective fur-removing endeavor, holding Fluffy by the tail while vigorously brandishing course-grit sandpaper as your arms are clawed to shreds isn't the most efficient manner possible. When the objective is the same for everyone, the strokes one takes determines the scratch one makes.

We’ll fix it,” he said, tipping her chin up so he could see her eyes. “Your conservatory was going in on that side, and this will just speed up construction. Dare, get my crews over here to clear this mess. Nick, we’ll be needing the team for sure. Day and Phil can go through the outbuildings and find a suite of bedroom furniture, then pick out a room in the house that’s close enough to done we can move Ellen into it.” He braced a hand on either side of Ellen’s neck. “You are going to let me take care of this and no argument, please. God”—he hugged her to him—“if you’d been home, puttering at your embroidering, putting up jam…” She nodded, eyes teary, and let him hold her. “Ah, look there.” Val pointed to the base of the fallen tree. “Your greatest treasure is unscathed.” Marmalade sat on his fluffy orange backside, washing a front paw as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I want…” Ellen stretched out a hand toward the cat, who pretended not to notice. “I’ll fetch him for you.” Val kissed her nose and made for the cat, who strolled back a few paces closer to what had been the bottom of the tree. Val reached for the beast then froze and looked more closely at the tree. He tucked the cat against his middle and stole another glance around at the surrounding trees before taking Marmalade back to Ellen. Val handed her the cat. “He says you have abandoned him shamelessly, and for your sins, you must allow him to accompany you up to the manor, where all his friends, the mice, are waiting to welcome him.” “Oh, Val.” Ellen managed a watery smile but leaned against him as she clutched her purring cat. “I’m so glad he’s unharmed. You’re a good kitty, Marmie. A very good, brave kitty.” “He’s also a very heavy kitty.” Val said, taking him from her grasp. “Let’s move him up to the manor, where I’m sure we can find him a dish of cream and you a cup of tea.

I’m destined to be alone in life. I’m starting to come to terms with that. It’s all better off this way. I’m going to be the cat lady. I might as well start collecting them now. I shall name my first one Fluffy. Yes, Fluffy.

What is it, Sassafras?” I crouched down and ruffled my cat’s fluffy fur. He was trying to flip over a heavy, mossy rock with his paws. Something good was definitely under there. I gently tipped the rock over on its side. Yes! I clapped my hands together. This rock was hiding a treasure. A billion roly-poly bugs! OK . . . maybe not a billion. But at least twenty. Sassafras took a step forward. “Meow?

Let's Play Cat & Mouse It was a beautiful day as he walked the streets, filled with flowers of summer and the green of the trees. The sun just rising, the freshness in the air. In the distance, something rolled across the road, pushed and played with by a fluffy, tiger like cat. It rolled, and was poked and pushed to the edge … Stop that, Stop that, Stop that now … it’s tiny little legs on the floor as it stretched as tall as it could, arms in front, as it looked up at fluffy … No, No, No You can’t catch me … Shocked and amazed was fluffy … As his morning breakfast, scurried and hurried along the side of the road … Goodbye, Good Day, have a wonderful Day … As they continued their day … No more time for Let’s play cat and mouse. by Natasha Parker Copyright © 2014 by Luisa Natasha Parker

The best my mum could up with for our cat was Fluffy. Not a thought went into that one. Fluffy is the name you give to a disposable cat. A cat that, should it end up tyre gravy, is replaced by the time the kids get home from school, with nothing said.

Sadie, our cat-who-may-be-an-evil-overlord-in-disguise, heads me off. Leaping in front of the kitchen door, she arches her back in a ripple of fur and hisses. Sadie is the ugliest cat I have ever seen. She has white, fluffy hair that looks like it’s been shocked with electricity in all the wrong places, unpleasant green eyes, and a flat face, as if someone dropped an iron on her when she was little. A face only my parents love.

I fell in love with a fluffy white and black cat that wandered onto the monastery property. She was so beautiful. I took excellent care of her. I used to spend hours pulling the Velcro-like burrs that got stuck in her long fur when she came to visit my hermitage. The monastery eventually decided she was better off living with a neighbor instead of us. That meant I would never see her again. When I heard the news, I became quite sad. The day she was picked up by her new owners and gone for good was one of the hardest days of my training. That night, I sat in meditation. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. When the bell rang to finish my meditation, I asked a question, “How do you let go of someone you love?” The answer that appeared was, “Love everyone.” I’ll never forget the magnitude of that response. My heart opened up beyond its broken capacity to include all of those around me. The feeling was so overwhelming that it was impossible to experience loss. Love everyone.

The horseplace cat gave him a doubtful look, then ran at him, flashing out a paw as she went past. Cloudtail dodged aside and hooked out Daisy’s paws from under her so that she sprawled on the grass in a tangle of legs and fluffy tail. “That’s not fair!” she wailed. “You never said you were going to do that.” “Oh, right.” Cloudtail couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Do you think in the thick of a battle an enemy warrior will come up and say, ‘Be careful, I’m going to push you over now?