The Only Cat

Fizz is the only cat I know who will sit calmly in a bathtub full of water and wait for you while you go get the shampoo. She's the only cat I know who likes cantaloupe. (No, not likes it, LOVES it.) She's the only cat I know who will walk on a leash like a dog, and eat grass along the way like a fuzzy little cow who purrs while she eats.

She's also the only cat who I would ever let onto my bed, and the only cat who I'll still pet, even though I'm allergic to her. It's temping, so tempting, to try the surgery and keep her as our only cat. If I wasn't really certain that sometime this year she'll be sick all over again anyways, and I'll have to go through saying goodbye all over again... I'd let her go on being the only cat I still love.
This is hard. I still love my Fizzbit. I'm going to go sit on the couch with the only cat who's allowed on my furniture till it's time for her to go to the vet. Glen's taking her. I can't. I'll feel better once today is over.

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