Survival of the Fittest

My cat Puffy was not meant to live.

I should have known better when the momma cat, knowing her kitten should be sacrificed, kept removing her from the litter and putting her on top of my parents' barn. Puffy just screamed and wailed all night up there so my mother would take her down and put her back with the litter. The momma cat would promptly take her right back up. It was a battle of wills between the two mothers until I came for a visit. I saw the cute little ball of fur and immediately commandeered an eye dropper and some warm milk. With that Miss Puff was saved and Darwin's theory was thwarted.

Within hours of bringing her home I realized that little Puff had some serious gastrointenstinal issues in the form of excessive diarrhea, or, as we call it in our family - 'oil poop'. Off we went to the veterinarian for some meds. Puff was to take the meds twice a day or the well would flow again. Simple enough, right?

The problem is that Puff was and is the cutest little ball of black and white fur around. Soon after the visit to the vet, I had her out in the front yard while I was pulling weeds. Puffy must have roamed out onto the bridge over the seasonal creek in my yard. The rotten little kids from down the street must have seen my little creature and snatched her. When I realized she was missing I went to the scoundrels' houses to inquire of her whereabouts and was shooed away by the conniving or oblivious parents. I couldn't believe they had taken my kitty and the parents were covering for the little rascals so I devised a plan to ensure the return of Puff.

I went home and made up fliers on my computer. These weren't just any fliers. No, I used the scare tactics of any concerned parent - I described Miss Puff and then wrote in capital, bold letters THIS CAT HAS A DISEASE THAT IS COMMUNICABLE TO HUMANS. YOU WILL KNOW IT WITHIN HOURS AS SHE WILL HAVE DIARRHEA EVERYWHERE. I placed the fliers in the mailboxes of all the kids on the block the next morning before I went to work. Sure enough, as soon as I drove into the garage the following day I heard a sound on the other side of the fence, saw the ball of fur drop, and then heard the distinct screams of my little Puff. I found her in a pile of leaves, covered in her own excrement but happy to see me. That night after Puff was cleaned up I imagined the family that took her, feigning stomach problems and scared to have gotten the disease. Serves them right.

Then again, it wasn't until later that I realized that Puffy's mother was probably right to try to get rid of her because she is, after all, defective. Of course, we would never do that as humans, right? We would rather provide treatment and therapy and allow the miserable, defective little creature live a somewhat abnormal and sheltered life consisting of chasing the same spot on the wood floors for six years.

Originally I thought Puff was a Down's or dwarf cat. She did get over the oil poop problem but she never really grew, except her paws, tail and head, which are huge. She can't fully formulate a "meow", it's more like a "muh" and a "mwa" in a horrific cat-in-heat tone. Add to that her blank stare - her pupils always see dilated and she just looks like she never knows what's going on. Of course, the icing on the cake is her gait. Her back end does not work in conjunction with her front end. Her front legs work fine but her back legs do their own thing so at times the back is moving faster than the front producing a crab-like walk wherein the back legs occasionally overtake the front and Puffy spins.

The veterinarian loves my little marvel of defectiveness. The vet once did a free MRI on Puff as scientific research. She found that Puff has a crooked spine and an underdeveloped cerebellum but htat Puffy was not suffering and seemed quite happy.

My friends love her too. I once had a dinner party during which Puffy scampered across the floor and attempted to go up the stairs toward the bedroom. My friend spit his wine in laughter and exclaimed, "That cat just fell UP the stairs!" Other just come by to sit and marvel as Puffy stumbles around and jumps at the sight of her own shadow.

I guess in the end, when I look at Puffy I am glad I played god that day and selfishly saved the little ball of fur.