Missy, Queen of the house

Seventeen and a half years ago, we decided we wanted another cat. We already had a calico (RC for Royal Cat, of course), but we thought another kitty would be a good companion for her.

We visited our local humane society and found quite a few cages with kitties hanging out. Wanting to be certain we would choose a suitable one, we carefully studied every cat in each cage, taking our time, waiting for the feeling that comes to pet lovers when they know they’ve found the ideal companion not only for our other pets but for us as well.

One cage had a note stuck to it saying that the kitty in there did not get along well with people. Curious, we peered in at the antisocial creature curled up in the far corner of the cage. She looked cute enough, yellow with a white nose and a white tip on her tail. I reached in with both hands and gently pulled her to me. Surprisingly she didn’t squirm and in a few moments I felt her cold nose snuggling in under my chin, a sure sign that the kitty liked me. We decided the note was inaccurate and took her home.

It turned out that she had a cold, a common condition in cats that have been under stress from losing their home and having to succumb to strangers handling them. We took her to our vet who gave us some meds and instructed us to keep her in a room away from RC until she got better. During that time – about a week or so – we got acquainted with her, petted her, talked softly to her, and gave her a name. Missy.

The note on Missy’s cage was right on. When she became well, her true personality blossomed. She indeed did not like people except for my husband and me and that was questionable at times. She was one of those cats that when you reached out to pet her head, she grabbed hold of your hand with both paws (claws extended) and bared teeth. If you could get your hand back, it would be covered with scratches and, at times, oozing blood, not to mention the excruciating pain that came with all that.

Missy is now 18 years old this month. She still just likes my husband and me and if we’re not careful she will take a hold of our hand and have her way with it. But as she ages, she has become a little more docile and will allow us to give her a few pets before we need to remove our hand for safety’s sake. Lorraine has tried over the years to make friends with her only to be greeted with a messy hiss or worse. Our mother, who could get along with any animal with her soft-spoken ways, couldn’t even make friends with her.

RC who is long gone had quite a time with Missy attacking her, sneaking up behind her and walloping her as she sped by with gleeful mischief. But there was one time that RC got the best of her. We were trying to put Missy in the carrier to take her to the vet for her annual exam and, I’ve got to say, our efforts were quite futile since Missy’s four paws firmly clutched the frame of the door, preventing us from shoving her in. We were just about ready to give up when RC jumped down from her chair, trotted over and began throttling Missy with the ferocity of a mountain lion. Shocked out of her senses, Missy slunk away from her and backed into the carrier with very little assistance from us.

Missy is now the queen of the household; all dogs give her wide berth when she parades through the house. She has her own heated room with a couch, kitty bed, food, water and kitty box, a windowsill to sit on while she watches the birds frolic in the burning bush outside. She adopted that room when Orie came onboard, probably thinking she’d had enough of other animals bothering her. I mean, after all with her age she’s definitely the senior animal in the house and deserves her own castle. Makes sense to me.