At least that what my hubbie says. I love cats. Even though I am allergic to them and they cause my asthma to flare up, I still love the furballs.

My cat, Tigger, came to me when she was a kitten back in the early 90's. Ugly little cat, a calico with white paws, but she soon became my dearest little friend. She slept on my bed, nuzzled up to me on my pillow and helped me get over the stresses of the day (if a 20-something can have stress in Florida of all places). She was there when I was married, when I had kids and lived to be 13 years old. Last September, Tigger was diagnosed with breast cancer and we decided on surgery to remove the tumor. It was huge. Afterward, the vet told me that the cancer had spread into her lymph nodes and that she would have up to a year left. Unfortunately, Tigger only had about three months left. She died in my arms two days after Christmas.

It was a horrible death and I partially blame myself. If I had left her alone that night, she might have died in her sleep, but that isn't the way it happened.

She had been not eating and growing weaker day by day. Finally on Christmas Eve I told my husband that maybe she should be put to sleep. I hated the thought of it, but I could see she was suffering. By that time, she was skin and bones and had no energy. So two days after Christmas, we made an appt. to have her put to sleep. When my husband got home from work, I went to the Christmas tree where Tigger was sleeping and picked her up. I started crying and I think it alarmed her because she resisted my picking her up. It made me cry harder. By the time we got in the car, she started having problems breathing and started dying. I was hysterical. She was my little girl and I didn't want her to go that way. It was over soon and we buried her in the yard. God, I miss my Tigger cat.

OK, enough maudlin stuff.

Before Tigger died, I had bought a new kitten to keep our other cat, Pete, company for when Tigger did pass on. My oldest son named him Fluffy. Hubbie calls him Minion. @@ Fluffy is a scamp and a half. I tell you, he is the worst farter I have ever come across and that includes my dear hubbie! That cat can cut the cheese! Whew! But he is adorable and getting fat too. Pete just ignores him. What is so funny is that Fluffy will hide and attack Pete whenever and where he can. Pete is not that young, around 10 I believe and he can't stand Fluffy. So much for my good intentions.

I think Fluffy farts on purpose. He uses it as a weapon. If he doesn't want to picked up, he farts. And you can't hear them either, they just waft up to your nose in stealth mode and by the time you smell the fart, it is too late. My younger son found this out the hard way. He loves to pick up that cat. By now, Fluffy has grown quite a bit and is half the size of him, but he doesn't care, he drags the cat around until Fluffy has to use his fart attack in order to escape. Smart cat.