Fluffernutter the Mercocat is the only feline to ever grace the Mercotan household. Purchased by Mom & Pops Mercotan for their (then) only grandchild elfbabe over 18 years ago, the cat lived at their place until their passing, when we inherited him with the house.
A mostly outdoor cat, he always had a somewhat warm and dry cathouse with regular food available to return to at need, in between adventures. Said adventures included avoiding neighborhood feral cats, dogs, coyotes, skunks, raccoons, mink, automobiles, hawks, higher than usual surf, foxes, and some rather savage and assertive chickens.
Classic misadventures include a permanently scarred nose due to a falling outdoor thermometer, and a mysterious absence during one of our worst winters, where he disappeared for over 3 months, and was presumed dead. A spring memorial service was planned, but said plans were ruined by his sudden and unexpected return one day. Skinny as hell, but otherwise unchanged.
He has also recently appeared in pictures: My kinfolk have set up automatic cameras in our woods, to document the local wildlife. They report getting some lovely shots of him approaching, then knocking down the camera.
Increasing age and chronic kidney failure have slowed him of late. Regular subcutaneous IV infusions of fluids have helped maintain his shaky health. He journeys less far than in ages past, and recently acquired a habit that nearly ended him: A longing to be in our garage.
Fluff has lately taken the signal of the garage door being open as an open invitation to enter the garage, in an apparent underhanded effort to gain entrance to the house at his convenience rather than ours. And apparently recognizing that if he follows too close on our heels with the door open, he’ll be shooed away.
So Fluff took up the habit of sneaking into the garage at the last moment, with the door closing. Which worked for him until yesterday.
Mrs Mercotan had just driven into the garage, and given the chill winter weather we have, immediately pushed the remote device to close the door. As she stepped out of the car, she was surprised to note that the door motor was still running. Looking around she noted that the garage door was not closing completely also. At that moment, she noted a third sound, a rather irritated but also moderately alarmed yowl.
Looking towards the yowl, she discovered the object which was preventing the full closure of the door: It was the head of Fluff, lodged firmly between the concrete floor and the very heavy door.
Happily, Mrs. Mercotan is not inclined to panic. Moving swiftly, she got the door moving in an upward direction, quickly freeing our feline, who did seem rather dazed, to the point of welcoming some handling and even acting a bit clingy (unusual in this macho cat who has always insisted on ruling over his vast territory around our property). Comforting Fluff, she gave him some water, and contacted me.
Reviewing the situation, I considered suggesting both a Computerized Axial Tomography scan and a Positron Emission Tomography scan, but decided to resist the urge to pun. The beast was given his usual place to rest comfortably indoors along with food and water.
Within a few hours, the cat was acting normally (like he owned the damn place and all its inhabitants) and had returned to his hedonistic ways (eating the dog food instead of the cat food. The dog responds by preferentially eating the cat food now).
Today, the only notable change in Fluff’s behavior was the fact that when the garage door began to open next to him outside, he sped with impressive velocity far, far away from the garage.
Surely he must be on his ninth life by now.
