It has just now this very moment, after all these years, occurred to me that I have never explained my handle.
Well, it’s my cat. Her name is Miss Chiff. She is the lord floof of this domain. Her floof reigns supreme. Even as her little brother, Mr Floof, gives her hard time, she guides him with the heavy paw of innate superiority.
My handle really should be MangedByMissChiff.
Miss Chiff was outside our window as a tiny little kitten meowing until I came outside and got her. She had a bum leg and hissed at me. I knew immediately she was my cat. There weren’t any other cats around and hadn’t been for the years we’d had that house.
Too small to eat, I syringe fed her raw milk from my goats for a week before she started to eat wet food. Even back then, her floof was dang thick. Thank you universe. I love long haired cats.
Fuzz, my late cat but still alive at the time, also long-hair, and aof course Puff, my other cat at the time, still the weirdest cat I’ve ever seen, had long hair every where except her legs. She appeared to float on blurry little feet scurrying underneath her enormous flouncy coat. All dear to me.
Fuzz was indifferent to Chiff but Puff played with her and, I am almost certain, taught her to never go in the road. I’ve had mostly indoor cats and remained terrified they would get hit if allowed to go outside. But wily old Puff would never tolerate being indoors and soon neither did Chiff.
Chiff is now getting on in years but recently has revealed herself to me the reason she chose me. She’s a dear friend and companion. <3
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