by Martha Miller
(Atlanta, GA USA)

Princess Missy

Missy is our princess—plain and simple. Missy does not walk across the floor, but rather she sashays! Her fur feels like a baby bunny-rabbit, her whiskers are reminiscent of a Fu Manchu moustache. The markings on her face are some of the most striking and interesting that I have ever seen. Missy is also our "spokes-kitty". She lets us know when it is time for breakfast, lunch and dinner...always in a polite but persistent voice while the other cats wait patiently for Missy to handle the situation. She talks so much that at times I accuse her of being Cat-Lassie and say to her “did Timmy fall down the well, AGAIN”? Princess Missy never appreciates my weird sense of humor and usually saunters away, as royalty does, with a look of “we are NOT amused, my dear commoner”.

Missy and her siblings were found on the side of the expressway in a cardboard box. The kind soul who found them took the box to the nearest house and asked the homeowner if she knew who the six kittens belonged to. The wretched homeowner explained that this was her “population control”. What a horrible woman, how can people like that live with themselves?

So, my daughter and I adopted two of the kittens—Missy and her brother (an orange tabby), or did they adopt us? On the way home Missy looked out the window and tried to explore the car while her brother hid his face and cried the entire time. The orange tabby is now 18 pounds to Missy’s petite 10 pounds—but there is no mistaking who the boss is. They are now 9 years old and have brought us so many hours of laughter, joy, and at least a little aggravation from time-to-time. But, they are our babies and we love them just like we would if they were our errant children. I tell my daughter that cats are like little kids except better climbers. It is our job to protect them from their own innate curiosity and make sure they do not get hurt.