Missy’s Awesome Years
She’d been on the street for seven years when she came to us, starving, dehydrated, stumbling in a circle that hottest of summers. We dashed her to the ER vet hospital, Good Samaritans, but it didn’t turn out that way. They took her to give her fluids, and my husband sat with a little smile on his face, wondering aloud if maybe her owner didn’t look like him, wasn’t wearing his clothes, and gosh darn it: Maybe the owner was sitting in his chair.
And thus we took in the fourth cat of our Second Family (Our First Family had been two dogs and three cats, all long gone). My husband named her Harper, after Harper Lee, but if you spent any time with her, it was plain as could be that she was… The Miss! Or Missy when we wanted her to get off the counter, or when we wanted to kiss her three times on the forehead (She haaaaated that!). She was our quiet girl, though she could make quite a racket when she purred, kneaded her huMONgous claws, and sprayed an out-of-control drool from her mouth. Yes, she was graceless when she was happy, and fortunately we must’ve been doing something right cuz she was graceless a whole heckuva lot of the time.
Serena and Hawthorne, our oldsters, weren’t very nice to her, so when those two died, leaving us broken-hearted, I cheered myself thinking: It’s Missy Time! Missy is in for some AWEsome years!
Missy got loud after that; she demanded; she begged; she squawked her dismay at pretty much everything that even remotely disappointed her. And we gave her as much of what she asked for as we could, whether it was Cabo Bob’s tortilla chips (She’d KILL for those; RoRo beware—don’t even think about asking for a crumb!), whether it was special plushy beds (Because the girl did so dearly love a new plush), and esPECially if it was a body part for her to sleep on (We got over being ripped to shreds as her Missy Claws tore away whilst kneading her frenzied joy).
Awesome years, I thought.
Nope.
Awesome months. Because we’re not always given what we hope for.
And even though my husband and I have danced to this song before, have buried many, oh so many, of our beloved babies/buddies, it hurt like hell to see our beloved little lady as she got weaker and weaker, as her world became smaller and smaller, as she floated, barely awake in this plane of existence, not even shaking her head as we kissed it three times. We let her go.
Her ashes came back today, and it’s small comfort. I’d MUCH rather have The Miss shrieking for Temptations or curled up in her covered cubby, looking out the window and hissing at anyone who creeps her out. I’d much rather have her on my chest, purring (Don’t purr! Don’t purr! This is a Purr-Free Household… and she’d purr even more), and flinging ribbons of drool all over the place.
I’d much rather have my torn skin from her Mighty Claws, and I intend to wear all those T-shirts, sweaters, leggings, and tights that she oh so thoughtfully snagged to high heaven. Wearing those shredded clothes would be/will be like trotting around: A Missy Retrospective, see her art in motion.
What joy. I laugh even as I sit here and cry, and I think of how everyone should have even half the blessings I received when we took in The Miss. Everyone needs a little lady, one who brings laughter, and love, and yes, even eventual heartache. But maybe the ol’ heart hurts cuz Missy left it so incredibly full.
And as we had her eight wonderful years, maybe we DID give her some AWEsome years? I don’t know. All I know is I cherish each awesome day we had her with us. All I know is I’ll cherish each awesome moment I allow myself to feel her near me, each awesome second where her light, her warmth, her spirit cry out… and I hear…
How you’re longed for and ached for,
my little Standing Bear.
And please visit RoRo?
He’s so lonely without you… ♥
Go to our Gratitude for Love - Missy’s Thanksgiving newsletter to see what audiobooks we found to honor the grief and gratitude her wonderful life brought to us!!