Missie

Missie, my father's cat

Once upon a time, there was this guy, his name was Daddy.  He came with his Jess grand-girl to the shelter where I was born, and still living with some of my litter mates, and he hugged me and brought me home.

I loved my Daddy very much.  Gayle used to come to our house all the time.  Sometimes she would take my Daddy away and then bring him back.  Sometimes he didn’t come back for a couple days.  Gayle would come take care of me, and tell me he was in the hospital, and then she’d finally bring him home.

Then, one time (Gayle says it was February 2010), it got really cold.  Our lights went out and it was cold in the house, and me and Daddy would sit by the fireplace and keep warm.  I looked out the window and there was snow … and snow and snow and snow.  For days and days it snowed, and the big piles were way over Daddy’s head, and the driveway was blocked, and Daddy said there was no where for Joe to put the snow any more when he would push it with the black truck.

After it had snowed for days, Daddy said he was going to take the garbage out.  He went out the back door….

….And never came home.

Missie and her Daddy

Late that night, Gayle came in, and she was crying.  She told me my Daddy had died, and not to worry.  She promised him she would always take care of me.  But I worried anyway, I was so sad.  I didn’t want to believe her, and would look out the windows for him every day, all day.  She and Joe and the kids came up to take care of me for a while, back and forth, and soon they started bringing their stuff, a little at a time, to my house.

I was really lonely.  Even though the family would come up here every day and spend time with me, I still slept all alone at night.  I sat in Daddy’s big chair and cried for him. It’s been almost a year now since he took the garbage out that day … and I still miss him every day.

A couple months after that horrible snow storm, Gayle and Joe and Devon moved in to my house.  They brought some silly birds who talk and I’m not allowed to eat.  They also brought That Dog.

I don’t like That Dog.  Gayle keeps trying to tell me and him that we need to learn to get along, but I would rather not.  I love my Devon now, and I am his kitty.  I stay on the end of the house where Devon does his homework and plays his games, and That Dog is not allowed in our space.  I have no desire to get to know That Dog better.

I would like to get to know the birds better, though.

My Daddy named me Missie Misfit, and that is who I am.  I am still, and will always be, my Daddy’s Girl.