Missy the Hissy Girl

My Tail of Devotion for Missy (1973-93)


February 25th 2008 6:43 pm
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Missy was the resident feline when I was growing up. She came to live with my parents a year before I was born, and she passed away at the ripe old age of 20 on October 18, 1993.

Missy was in the car the day that Mom went into labor with me. They had been visiting their parents an hour away but the doctor felt they had time to drive south and be with their regular obstetrician. Missy howled and made such a racket on the trip down, which ended up being cut short because I wasn't going to wait any longer to make my arrival in the world.

When Mom and Dad brought me home, Mom's sisters came to visit. Missy wasn't about to let anyone other than Mom in my room. She sat in the doorway and hissed, then attacked, my aunts as they tried to come visit me. Mom had to eventually remove me from the room in order for them to hold and cuddle me! She never did that with my other siblings.

Being Siamese, she was easily spooked; its a wonder she lived as long as she did! Fond memories include the day I was holding her while talking to my mom while she moved dishes. Bang! she dropped a pan. Missy couldn't jump out of my arms fast enough and flee the kitchen. She left scratch marks up my chest and down my back, as well as plumes of fur floating in the air!

She lived for bed-making times. We called her mama's cancer bump. She'd dive into the covers, not wanting to leave. My mom would pull the blankets over her, and the fun would begin - touching her, running our hands around her so she could catch them. She also chased anything that moved under the sheets. Normally this meant my parents' feet. My mom understood; my dad cussed and yelled. She would tear up or down the stairs, making enough noise to make you think that there was a dozen cats in the house. But no, it was just little Missy.

When she howled, everyone knew it. If she thought she had been left behind, she'd howl until someone responded to her. She knew she was my mom's cat - no question on where her loyalties lay! However, she eventually allowed me into her circle of "acceptable" people. I don't know why she did this; could it be that I was the oldest child, she had the longest to get used to me? Was it the fact that it was my job to keep her litter box tidy? It was also my job to feed her in the evening. Her bowls sat on the small piece of counter between the stove and the wall, where the family dog couldn't reach (and eat) it.

My mom didn't go many places in the house without an oversized coffee mug, which she used for water. It normally resided on her desk in the living room. Missy realized what it was, and it didn't matter how much water there was in that cup; she'd manage to stick her head down in the cup and drink it up. Mom would cover the cup; Missy would move the cover. Eventually, a compromise was reached: Missy got her own bowl of water on Mom's desk. This satisfied both occupants!

More about that litter box... It was located across the hall from my bedroom door. When the litter failed to suit her royal behind, regardless of whether it was clean or saturated, she would leave deposits at my door. I can't remember how many times I stepped into nastiness on my way to the bathroom in the middle of night! If that didn't get my attention within her accepted time frame, she'd trott down the hall to my parents' room and leave something for them.

Missy's life became much more relaxed once her hearing started to go. She stopped being afraid of things. She'd sit through a thunder storm, out in the open. Clanging pans didn't bother her anymore.

She was scrawny but a good kitty. It was a hard day the morning we woke up to find that she had gone to that big cat nip pile in the sky. It seems so long ago now that she last left a present at my door. But she was the grand dame of the house, and, always will be.


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Missy (1973-93)


 

Family Pets


Mackenzie

Sebastian

Boogie
(1993-2005)

Daisy
(1987-2001)

Brandy
(1975-1989)

Zeus Dexter
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Maggie (Sis'
dog)

Ivan (Moms
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Darby
(1995-2008)

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