Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Missy Girl

I am dismayed that I have not written about how we acquired Missy Girl. There is multiple posts about Layla's rescue journey. There is even a post about our jolly good fellow, Mr. Jinxy, and how he came to live with us. Yet there is not one post about our little imp. Like our other two critters, Missy is a rescue cat. Adopting rescue animals is our philosophy in our home and always will be. 

                            

I grew up loving cats. 

I'm admittedly a cat person more than I am a dog person even though I absolutely love dogs too, but there's something about cats that I just love. 

I had a cat named Winnie while I was growing up. I was six years old when I first got Winnie from my aunt, and right there; I fell in love with Winnie. She was my companion that had always stayed by my side. Winnie was the coolest cat; she hunted birds despite not having claws, and killed a chipmunk that got loose in our basement! She was very particular about who she liked--she had only liked my brother and I. Rest--she wasn't a fan of them. Nonetheless, I had her for long wonderful 18 years. It was very difficult losing Winnie. It broke my heart even though I knew it was the best for her. After losing Winnie, I did not want a cat. It hurt too much to even consider adopting a cat. Besides; I was in time of my life when things were quite chaotic and I was busy being a young adult. I was just not ready. Then I finally settled about 4 or 5 years after Winnie's death, and realized I really missed having a cat. 

I began hunting at my local shelters, scoured online for rescue cats, and decided I want a Maine Coon cat. 

Now, for those who has no idea what the hell a Maine Coon is; Maine Coon is like a little dog, okay, and those cats weigh about 20 pounds easy. They are full of hair. Big, big, huge beautiful cats. I knew I wanted a  gray female cat. 

Maine Coon 

Boy, searching for a Maine Coon was proving to be difficult. Then I moved in with Stu. He expressed a dislike for cats with long hair. Here it went my desire to have a Maine Coon out of the window (maybe one day though). 

Fortunately, Stu was willing to compromise. He said I could have a cat. So off we went to a shelter to look at cats. I went into several cat rooms....Stu saw Mr. Jinxy and knew he wanted Mr. Jinxy even though he claimed not to like cats? I reminded Stu that I wanted a female gray cat. I entered a younger cats area, and saw this little thunder bolt of a gray streak shooting across the room. I picked the gray cloud with my hands as quick as I could then met her emerald green eyes. 



I decided right there that I was going to adopt this little thunder ball. Since the shelter had a promotion of "Buy one, get one free", I decided to adopt Missy along with Mr. Jinxy. Immediately, we changed Mr. Jinxy's name from KING to Mr. Jinxy. For some reason, Stu really wanted to name him after the cat from Meet The Parents the movie and never mind that Mr. Jinxy looked nothing like that cat from the movie. Missy had a weird name that has been now long forgotten anyway. I named her Ophelia after Hamlet, my favorite Shakespeare book, and left it at that. 

During Ophelia's downtime; she loved sitting on my chest purring softly while rubbing her head under my chin, and slept while listening to my heartbeats. Ophelia tried to befriend grouchy old Mr. Jinxy and did not give up until he finally decided that Ophelia was not that bad after all. Both cats got along pretty well most of the time--there had been occasional moments when Mr. Jinxy hissed at her out of pure frustration probably because Ophelia was pestering him a bit too much. 

As weeks went by; I realized that Ophelia was a terrible fit of a name for this crazed cat. The little Blue Russian popped out under the bed to attack my ankle when I got up in the morning; jumped into the pantry to hide among the food, got herself locked in the closet plenty of times, rarely meowed or made any sounds except an occasional hissing at Mr. Jinxy, explored everything with bravery, never expressed any anxiety or fear of anything, and loved to lounge outside in the warm sun during the summer months. 
                                       
Every time I caught this cat doing something she was not supposed to; I ended up yelling MISS GIRL, stop it! MISS GIRL, quit it! Miss Girl, don't do that. Miss Girl, don't make me laugh but you are being naughty. Miss Girl, no! 

I started taking pictures of Miss Girl's mischief and posted them on Facebook. To my surprise; people enjoyed seeing the pictures and found them to be hilarious as much as I did. 

Then it hit me. 


Missy Girl was her name. 

And it was a perfect fit. 

To this day; I still have not gone one day without laughing at Missy's crazy behavior or new hiding spot or surprising Layla as she leaps at the dog from the shelves. I do admit that sometimes Missy does drive me crazy especially with my pregnancy hormones...fortunately; this is not as often as laughing over Missy's latest tactic. 

I can't imagine my life without our rescue pets. They really do give so much. Perhaps it is because they understand the love you have given to them by adopting them. 






Love,

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