The curious case of Mable’s cat

Mable loved her cat, Captain Fluffypants. She loved him more than most people—certainly more than her cousin Harold, who only ever showed up when there was food involved. Captain Fluffypants had the run of Mable’s house, a cushy spot on the sofa, and a collection of designer cat beds that he completely ignored. Mable always said, “When I’m gone, Fluffy will be just fine.”

Unfortunately, Mable’s optimism didn’t translate into a Will.

Captain Fluffypants gets evicted

When Mable kicked the proverbial bucket, her estate (and Captain Fluffypants) went into legal limbo. With no Will, the law decided who got what—and who got Fluffy. Enter Harold.

Harold didn’t like cats. He didn’t like responsibility. What he did like, however, was Mable’s house. As her closest living relative, Harold inherited everything: the house, the bank account, and—technically—Captain Fluffypants. “Technically” being the key word because, on day two of living there, Harold unceremoniously booted Fluffy out, muttering something about “allergies” and “fur in the toaster.”

Captain Fluffypants, used to premium treats and central heating, found himself on the streets, glaring at Harold’s smug face through the front window. Harold? He was inside, feet up on Mable’s sofa, eating crisps straight from the bag.

Where there’s no Will, there’s no way

The neighbours rallied when they spotted Fluffy rifling through bins. “Mable would never let this happen,” they whispered, as they fed him scraps and debated who should take him in. But here’s the catch—without a Will, no one could legally rehome Fluffy or access Mable’s estate to pay for his care. Not the neighbours, not the local animal charity, not even the nice lady down the road with eight cats and a heart of gold.

Captain Fluffypants became a wandering legend. The local kids called him “the ghost cat,” Harold pretended he didn’t exist, and Mable probably rolled over in her grave every time Fluffy curled up on someone’s doorstep.

Harold cashes in, Captain Fluffypants misses out

Harold, meanwhile, sold Mable’s house for a tidy profit and moved to Spain. He never mentioned Captain Fluffypants again, and when asked about the cat, he’d mumble, “I think he found a home or something.”

And just like that, Mable’s beloved cat—her best mate, her sofa-warmer—was forgotten. All because Mable didn’t scribble down a few simple wishes.

The moral of the story

If you don’t leave a Will, the people (and pets) you love most might not get a say. The law doesn’t care how much you adore your cat, your dog, or your prized collection of ornamental teapots. It cares about rules—and those rules gave Harold the house and Captain Fluffypants the cold shoulder.

So, if you want to make sure your cat ends up on a velvet cushion in a loving home and not scouring bins for leftover tuna, write a Will. Captain Fluffypants deserves better.

Because life is too short—and your cat deserves more than Harold.