Missy

Missy has been gone for five years now. I still miss her horribly.  She was my first grown up pet.  She was perhaps the perfect cat for me. To this day, I feel like she picked me instead of the other way around. When Jack (my ex-husband) and I moved into an apartment that allowed pets in 1990, he took me to find a cat for my birthday. I saw this cute black and white kitten and asked the attendant if I could see her. The attendant pulled her out and handed her to me. This small bundle of black and white curled up right under my chin and immediately started purring. It was clear that we were a match made in heaven. I did not look at another cat or kitten. My decision (and apparently hers) was made.

She came home with us that night. She was so tiny and scrawny. I wasn't sure what to name her. I started off by thinking 'Marilyn' because of the beauty mark in white by her mouth. I called my mother to let her know about her new 'granddaughter'. (She hated when my brother and I called her to inform her she is or is going to be a grandmother and it was to an animal. We each got her at least once with that.  It didn't help that this was at a time when she was hoping for 'REAL' grandchildren.) When I expressed concern over what to name her, Mom said, 'Don't worry. She will tell you what her name is.'  Wise, wise words!

As I talked to Mom, I followed my new feline around the house as she explored her new home. She got into EVERYTHING! I commented to Mom, 'Lord, she is FULL of Mischief!' Mom said, 'That's her name! You can call her Missy for short.' She was so right!  Mischief she became and Mischief she definitely was.

She took to sleeping across the back of my neck the first night she lived with me. This eventually was discouraged when she reached a certain weight, but when my hair was long enough, she would curl up next to my head at night and purr and knead in my hair. It often lulled both of us into a sweet, peaceful sleep.

I remember the first time I ever clipped her claws. I had chosen not to have her declawed and so needed to perform that function to protect myself, others, my furniture and eventually the dog. She meowed like I was killing her. I was shaking and crying. But, we got through it. Eventually, I could do it with little complaint from her, in fact, she would often just sit and purr as I clipped, knowing she'd get a treat immediately afterward.

At her first vet visit, the vet told me that tuxedos were a breed to themselves and very unique, special cats. I didn't even know she was a tuxedo (named for the coloring pattern which looks like a tuxedo). He said he owned one and it was probably the most enjoyable cat he had. She certainly was that! She had a respiratory infection and he prescribed liquid amoxicillin for her. She took it well. She seemed to like the taste and would hold onto the dropper,with her front paws, as I administered it.

She learned to jump from the floor into my arms. This was a cute trick, but one I had to be wary of because sometimes she did it when I wasn't expecting it. I learned to recognize the look she would get on her face before she'd jump. Usually, I was the only one she'd do this with, but she did it to a friend once. Luckily, this friend knew of Missy's habit and caught her when she did. From a person's arms, she would work her way up onto their shoulders. She frequently rode around on Jack's shoulders until she started biting him on the head. (Once she started that, he no longer allowed her to ride on his shoulders.) He was the only person she ever did this to. I can only assume that this was her expression of her feelings toward him or maybe her reflection of my own.

She hated when I would yell at anyone or anything. If I yelled, she would jump on my back. I probably still have a few scars from that. If I cried, she would immediately be there with her nose pressed against my face, as if to say 'Are you OK?'  When I got Indy and then subsequently Trystan and Fannie, she was the cat that ruled the roost.

She was always out to greet any guests to my home. I learned to trust her opinion of my visitors. There was only one time that she refused to come near a guest. That guest was never invited back.  I believe animals sense things we cannot. For her to be so accepting of so many and suddenly not of this person, I took to be an indicator that I should not be either.

The first sign that she was ill was when I sat down to eat something and she sat near me, but didn't try to steal any food. I handed her some and she still showed no interest. This prompted a trip to the vet and I was given some medication for her. This didn't help. So, back to the vet. This time, they did an xray. Her kidneys were enlarged. My vet recommended a local practice that specialized in cancer and other pet maladies. They confirmed she had lymphoma. I agreed to try the chemo treatments provided she handled them well and they did not overly impact her quality of life. She did well at accepting the daily pills I had to give her and was easy for the veterinary staff to handle. They always commented that she didn't look ill. Her coat retained it shine. She remained active and seemed happy. However, she stopped eating again after about three treatments. She was dehydrated and it appeared her kidneys were failing. On New Year's Eve 2005, I made the decision to let her go. She was about 15 at the time. I held her in my lap as they performed the procedure and cried my heart out. I miss her so very much. She was truly a special cat.