Misha (In Loving Memory)

American Shorthair/Oriental
Picture of Misha  (In Loving Memory), a male American Shorthair/Oriental

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Home:Rego Park, New York  [I have a diary!]  
Sex: Male   Weight: 12 lbs.

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   Leave a treat for Misha (In Loving Memory)

Special Gift Box:
The family of Platelicker  ♥ DB#69, Raincloud, Cartman, Big Bob, Pittbutton and more!
Platelicker  ♥ DB#69

The Meesh, Meeshka, Bud, Budsky, unprintable

Kitty Complexion:
sleepyvery active
not curiousvery curious
not vocalvery vocal

Sun Sign:
Quick Bio:
-mixed breed

Gotcha Date:
July 4th 1992

March 15th 1992


Interrupting Mom's phone conversations by placing his tail between the phone mouth piece and her lips. Helping Mom look for small objects dropped on the floor by placing his face in front of hers.

Going to the vet.

Favorite Toy:
Bottle caps or anything that can be turned into a hockey puck.

Favorite Nap Spot:
What's a nap?

Favorite Food:
Whatever you're eating; anything with chili pepper is perfect.



Arrival Story:
Even though we live in New York, Misha came to us from a pet store in Philadelphia. I began my 4th of July weekend with a girl friend in Market Street Mall. On my insistence, we went in to play with the kittens in their pet store window. Pretty standard story up to this point--kitty-lover pushover in a pet store, except for the fact that, at only 3 months old, he managed to get me to buy him by stroking my face with his paws. How could I put him back?

Misha was criminally smart and the biggest pain-in-the-butt you could ever live with. I wouldn't have wanted him any other way. He had a way of literally and figuratively being in your face whether you wanted it or not. He loved people and had a way of worming his way into your heart. The more someone rejected him the more he would keep trying, until he won you over. He stole the attentions of more than one date from me. And more than one delivery man must have thought I was crazy, answering the door with him perched on my hip like a baby. It was easier doing that than chasing after him through the halls of the apartment building when he escaped. He would dutifully walk all guests to the door as they were leaving (escape being first and foremost on his devious kitty mind). The neighbors on my floor got to know him well, since I had to dig him out of their apartments. And yet he had his dark side too. He had a bad experience at the vet as a kitten, and needed to take valium before any vet visit. Not that it helped much. He was still so distraught and dangerous when he came home that he needed to be confined for several days until he calmed down and didn't attack people and the other cats. He loved raw carrots and would turn up in the kitchen every time I peeled one, though he didn't eat them. He loved their scent on his coat. He also loved hot and spicy people food and would mush you up while you were eating so he could steal the food off your plate. He loved dancing with me. He loved Sasha, his Shiitsu neighbor (or he loved her apartment and was willing to put up with her in the bargain--we never did quite figure that one out). And later when he got sick (chronic kidney failure) he would turn up in the kitchen and demand "waa-waa", his word for water. Three years after his death, recounting his escapades to the people who knew him still makes them laugh. Budsky, you are loved and missed dearly. Misha lived first with his two buddies Cappuccino and B.A., two adorable black and white tomcats and, after they died with two lovely Applehead Siamese girls, Marrakech and Samsara. He adopted Marrakech as his life-long mate until he passed away.

Forums Motto:
In Your Face

The Last Forum I Posted In:
I had to go to the bridge

I've Been On Catster Since:
October 23rd 2008 More than 8 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

Catster Id:

Meet my family
(My Angel)
(my precious
angel) Samsara
(My Angel)

Meet my Feline Friends
See all my Feline Friends
See all my Feline Friends

Misha's Diary

My Birthday

March 16th 2012 12:30 am
[ Leave A Comment | 3 people already have ]

Another year passed. I would have been 21 this year. At this time last year I was saying that Mom, Keshy and the medicines were losing the battle against her UTI and the asthma. I guess my birthday every year going forward is going to be overshadowed because Keshy went to the Bridge the day after my birthday.

Well she’s here with me now. This isn’t exactly what I would have wished for my birthday. Our ashes are sitting next to each other on Mom’s bookshelf too.

Mom was digging through the cabinets and found my stuff just today. Funny, she could never bring herself to part with it. She just made the decision to either use the two (mock) crystal bowls I used for my food and water or to get rid of them. She also found the apple bitters she put on Keshy to keep me from having my way with her. Those apple bitters are almost 14 years old now, Mom. Time to get rid of them!

We’re still trying to figure out if it’s that Mom forms an emotional attachment to things because of the memories they invoke or if she just thinks ‘what if I need it again?’ At least Cappuccino and B.A.’s bowls aren’t there anymore. My bowls were much better ones. Who is she kidding?? Except for the one water bowl she won’t use them again—too many memories. That makes the stuff hard to part with, doesn’t it?

But it’s my birthday, what am I talking about? Happy Birthday to me! I spent the day celebrating with the other angels while Mom spent the day thinking about some of the things I used to do. All in all, it wasn’t a bad day.

Thanks for stopping by my page.

Thank you:
Smokey Joe and Family for the pretty rainbow
Molly Angel for the wonderful top hat to match my tux. Green always looks wonderful with black and white—and the ice cream cake was positively divine.
Nala Sue (Angel) for the yummy shrimpie.
Monster for the Blue Ribbon.
Family of Bella and Orange Ruffy for the lucky four-leaf clover.
Family of Big Harry and Patches for the beautiful heart.
Teebo, Callie and Rose for the Pink Ribbon—my Marrakech’s favorite color!
Griswold for the lucky four-leaf clover. (Man, you are getting big!)
Monida for the pretty heart.

And thanks for the p-mails:
Tabbie O’Trout Towne - I love “cake, pie, pork chops, burgers, ham samiches, sghetti, tunie on hole wheet and oh course...trout..., flounder, bass, perch AND mackerel”. Good thing I’ve got a hearty appetite, ‘cause I’ll have them all! MOL
Pipo and Minko for the card with the piano-playing Catereoke dude!



My Bridge Day

November 23rd 2011 11:52 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 1 person already has ]

Thank you all for a stopping by to remember me. It’s been a few days since my bridge day and Mom got busy and then today, she had a humdinger of a migraine. So we’re late in saying thank you.

Watching the goings on at home is sure amusing. Since Keshy died, Samsara has started driving Mom crazy. MOL! She wasn’t that demanding while I was there! And, the lucky little rat, since Colette took over the sofa, she’s been trying to figure out a way to get sofa time too. (Mom never let any of us, except for Colette, on that sofa. Colette was finally allowed to go there when Keshy and Samsara wouldn’t let her go on the bed. Mom still doesn’t want her there because Samsara has always been a messy barfer. She lets it roll where ever she happens to be. If Colette has to barf she usually makes it to the wood floor and does it there. )

Mom would have let her get away with it in exchange for a photo the other day. When Mom came out of the bedroom, there was Colette in her usual spot (Mom’s spot) on the sofa—except it looked like she had two heads! The second head was growing out of Colette’s hip. The rest of Samsara was hidden behind one of the cushions! Samsara saw Mom heading for the camera and jumped down before Mom could take the picture. Better luck next time (and there will be a next time), Mom.

Thank you for all the lovely gifts you left for me and Mom:

Nakita for the Angel Star
Tabbies (o’ Trout Towne) for the Rainbow Star
Smokey Joe, Milo, Mallee, and Sam for the pretty Crown
Anonymous (who sounds suspiciously like Nuk) for the Angel Star
Monida for the Rainbow
Tink and Snowfor the Rainbow
Family of Skylar, Mrs. Murphy and Rusty Dreamboat for the Rainbow
Monster for the Heart
Finney, Lacey & (Angel) Alex for the Rainbow
Big Harry, (Angel) Abigail, Patches and Zach for the Adopt a Pet Ribbon
Family of Kitty Pryde, Indiana, and Harrison for the Heart
Sofie and Family for the Heart
Scooter and Family for the Heart
Family of Adam Dylan and Eve Layla for the Heart
Felix Honey Angel for the Blue Ribbon
Family of Zoe Autumn Sunshine and Zach Frost for the Heart
Family of Pinky, Biggles, and Nonny for the Rainbow
Simon and Reuben for the Rainbow with the greeting card inside
Family of Alex, Annie Angelpants and Bugsy for the Rainbow
Family of River and Simone for the Heart
Family of Bella, Orange Ruffy, Smokie-boo, Natalie the NatCat for the Brussel Ball
Tabbies (o’ Trout Towne) for the Pumpkin Pie to wish me a happy Thanksgiving




Bridge Day - Six Years

November 17th 2011 11:16 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 8 people already have ]

What to say… time goes by and while the love stays, the memories grow more dim.

I miss him. What a cat! He loved people; he loved being with you and loved helping (hindering) with anything you were doing.

I just spent the day remembering little incidents—snippets of stories, really.

The very first weekend when my friend and I brought him home to her house as a tiny little kitten, her (now ex-) husband, Jack, claimed he was allergic to cats, and didn’t want Misha in the house because of their small children. At that time, their youngest was 6 months and the oldest was 3 years. Jack thought that animals were dirty and carried germs. I’m still willing to bet that Jack hated cats and that the kids carried more germs than 12-week-old Misha. But, anyway, we found a rather tall box for Misha, and he spent his first night with us in the box in their garage. Or so we thought. When we got up in the morning I went to attend to him—he wasn’t there. I found him, unhurt, emitting rapid-fire staccato cries—eh, eh, eh, eh, eh—from the bottom of their empty steel trash can. How he got there was anyone’s guess. I came that close, then, to accusing Jack of having put him there. Fourteen years on, I’m not so sure that Misha didn’t get there all by himself, knowing his penchant for mischief.

Home, not too long afterwards, he found the toilet paper. I looked up in time to see him proudly carrying the end of the roll in his mouth, head up, tail proudly in the air, and toilet paper flag unfurling behind him.

Toys? Not in a conventional sense. He loved to carry around the leash the vet gave us, and he loved anything he could turn into a hockey puck like there was no tomorrow. No small round object dropped inadvertently escaped his notice. He was off with it in a flash—bottle caps, coins, buttons, subway tokens.

He loved his Marrakech. He picked her as his mate, in every sense of the word, from the first week he spent with her and was hers for the rest of his life. I swore at the time that Marrakech wasn’t mine, she was Misha’s. It wasn’t until after Misha went to the bridge that Keshy became so deeply attached to me. She was still a baby when he started mounting her. My vet solved the problem by suggesting I put apple bitters between her shoulder blades. It didn’t deter him for very long, but the first time he tasted the apple bitters I laughed so hard. He had the funniest look on his face: “Gee, I don’t remember her tasting that bad the last time!”

A favorite game of his was to walk everyone to the door as they were leaving. When an unsuspecting neighbor had their door open, I thanked my lucky stars the building was small and I knew almost all of them. I had to fish him out of their apartments. He also liked nothing better than leading me on a wild goose chase three flights up or down. Usually, he went up the stairs—I always had to collect him at the doorway to the roof.

One time he never made it that far. The people in the apartment directly above mine had decorated their door with Christmas gift wrap and a large bow. By the time I caught up with him he was hurling his body at the door. Whap, whap, whap. I didn’t yet know that neighbor.

I’ve mentioned elsewhere how his trip to a vet to have him fixed caused major psychological problems every time I needed to take him. We tried medicating him with phenobarbital before I would bring him in. It didn’t do much good. In later years, the vet wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. To be fair, the vet didn’t want to stress him any further than was absolutely necessary.

I phoned her the day Misha got one of his claws embedded in his pad. She taught me how to perform the extraction over the phone. I took him into the bathroom, shut the door, and put him in my lap. I turned him on his back and braced myself for the worst. The worst never happened. I shook like a leaf while Misha calmly let me do what I needed to do. Wow!

As, Finney or Lacey might say, he was a ‘pain in the behind’, but what a lovable, loving character he was! Misha is gone but the love and the stories remain. I am truly blessed to have been able to have spent fourteen years of my life with this incredible creature.

Misha, I love you.

Mom, Carol

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