She was affectionate, pretty and so smart. I would say, “Mama Mama” (cuz that’s what I called her), and she would respond, “Meow.” You know how most cats stare at the air behind you, not really acknowledging your presence? Not my cats. They make eye contact. I find that endearing. But I digress. Rescued from a local shelter, along with five kittens, Missy ducked when I tried to pet her. Only Floyd Mayweather had better moves. I wondered who hit her and why. It took weeks for Missy to accept that hands don’t hurt and tummy rubs feel wonderful.

I helped raise four of her kittens, Mahoney, Paisley, Blossom and Smittens. One orange tabby, one white and gray, one calico, and a black tuxedo (the variety proof that Missy “got around”). She was a patient mom, enforcing superb litterbox skills and good manners. When too old to nurse, she gently discouraged them with a good bath instead. Permanent homes came easily for the kittens but not for Missy. When new foster kittens arrived, she instinctively took charge. I watched her stick a leg out to trip a startled kitten, sending him tumbling. It was Missy’s way of saying, “No running in the hall.” Mothering was her niche. She was a delightful, fully adoptable, pastel calico (I said she was Shabby Chic) so it was just by chance, and my good fortune, that she stayed on.

Over time, Missy became my teacher. When she got diabetes from steroids, I learned to inject insulin. When she developed a chicken allergy, I became proficient at analyzing cat food ingredients. When a cat bit her and she had surgery, I learned to treat a wound. When her gums began to bleed, I learned how to brush cat teeth, although not too successfully. When Missy got tooth resorption, I located the Winn Feline Foundation and educated myself about dental issues. And when she was diagnosed with feline asthma, the disease that took her from me, I learned to give Missy Flovent through an AeroKat inhaler. I became smarter, more competent and resilient because of her.

Missy’s life had challenges. (Maybe she would say, “adventure and intrigue.”) She lived fearlessly, never expecting more than what she got. But she experienced much, especially love. It was extremely difficult to allow her to leave. But I did. When pneumonia ravaged her already damaged lungs, and Missy could not breathe without an oxygen cage, I set her free. I endured the pain of losing her so that she could be released from it. You know how they say people or pets come into your life and you are forever changed? That was Missy. She was my teacher. She was my furry soulmate. I am better because I knew her. I miss her bunches.