Editor’s Note: America’s Best Pet Pals is a nationwide search for the animal friendships that make you laugh, cry, and purr. Reader’s Digest will be honoring the best in pet friendship in print, online, and on social media. This is a finalist in our “Rescued Animals” category. Scroll to the bottom to cast your vote for Minnie and Mr. Fluffy. To see our full list of finalists, go to rd.com/petpals and vote in each category.
During the 25 years we’ve lived in our home, a dozen or so felines have appeared on my porch, gazing through the glass door, silently begging for a nutritional donation. Well, what can I do? Certainly not ignore their pleading faces.
Even as my husband says “Don’t feed that cat, Caren,” I am opening the door, cat food bag in hand. Most cats only stay a few days, maybe a couple months before disappearing into the woods. Except for one. She stayed for 11 years.
One evening while feeding the horses, I saw something move. I turned just in time to glimpse a black tail disappearing under our tack shed. Later, after our two cats had eaten, I saw a skinny, scraggly young tabby stealthily creep up and finish the leftovers. The next time I saw her, she had a companion, a black male cat. I made sure to put out enough food for the both of them.
Courtesy Caren Ramon
I was beginning to wonder whose cat this was. At first, I figured he was a neighbor’s cat just come to visit. As the days went on, he looked skinnier and began losing his lustrous coat. He followed me to the house, meowing for food. I knew there was a house down the road that had recently been sold. Could he have been left behind? It was obvious he’d been someone’s baby, as it seemed his one goal in life was to be a lap cat. How could I find his people?
I scoured the papers for a lost cat listing. None matching his description. I bought a breakaway collar and typed up a note: “If this is your cat, please call me. I would like to adopt him, but I don’t want to steal someone’s cat.” I signed my name and phone number, taped it around the collar, and put it on him.
The fluffy cat still appeared every day, the note getting dirty and torn. Then one day, he had scratches all over his face, no collar, and his ear hanging by a few tendons. When we brought him in to the vet, they scanned him for a microchip. Finding none, we officially adopted him, christening him Mr. Fluffy.
We soon learned that Mr. Fluffy is very territorial. If a cat strayed into our yard, he immediately chased it off. But never Minnie the Moocher. Whether he realized she had been here first or because she was female, Mr. Fluffy never attacked her. Quite the contrary—Mr. Fluffy and Minnie the Moocher became quite the twosome. We kept Mr. Fluffy in the house at night to avoid any more misadventures and vet bills, but every morning Minnie was there on the porch waiting for him. This went on for three years.
Then one morning, Minnie just wasn’t there. Mr. Fluffy and I scoured the property, but no Minnie. Poor Mr. Fluffy would go out every morning, walk around searching for her, then give up. Though we have two other female cats now, he hasn’t bonded with them or even attempted to.
It always hurts to lose an animal you love. But I wouldn’t give anything in the world for the time we had with our Minnie the Moocher. Feral as she was, she taught me friendship and love can be shared just by being present and accepting. No touching or words needed. Just be there.
