Today we said goodbye to our cat, Misty. She was our oldest, and at 15 had lived a good, long cat life. She was the last of our cats to come with us from our old house off of North Main.
Misty and her brother Rascal came to us by way of my father. Unbeknownst to him, they were living in his workshop. When he opened the door one morning his dog pounced on Rascal, thinking it was a squirrel. Rascal’s leg was crushed, and things looked pretty grim for him, but Misty was OK. Dad was going to take them both to the shelter. I decided to bring them home with me, instead.
Laura was in Washington State when I got the kittens, so I felt a bit weird about taking them. Things worked out, though. Rascal’s paw got better, and Misty became a rambunctious part of our family. In fact, Dad had already given the name “Rascal” to Misty because of her behavior. I switched the names because of gender, and because Misty had light gray fur like a fog.
Misty was full of little quirks. She was feisty, and would try to bite buttons and anything interesting on clothing. She was dainty. She would use her paws to pull out one piece of dry cat food at a time, rather than put her head into the bowl. She was intelligent, and would figure out how to open doors and get into all kinds of mischief. She spent most of her time indoors, but would often go out as a mighty hunter. Much to our dismay she would bring back baby snakes for us, thinking that they were wiggling strings with which to play.
As she got older, Misty became the feline matron of our family, first adopting Cosmo, and most recently Rory as her own. Both kittens would curl up with her and spend an entire night. She got so that she loved company, both feline and human. She was an affectionate cat, and she will be missed.
With the recent death of my father, this passing hit me especially hard. It was as if I were reliving those last days over again, writ small. Not to equate the passing of one’s father with that of a family pet, but the emotions were still draining. The physiology of death is remarkably similar between species, and I could see similar stages in both passings. The connection between Misty and my dad as far as how she came to be in our family made it even more difficult.
Misty is survived by our orange cat, Cosmo, and the kitten we got this summer, Rory. Our intruder cat, IC, still comes and goes as he pleases.
