Tag Archives: Missy

We miss you, Missy… (2)

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Missy – Our Dirk van den Broek supermarket kitten!
It was fate that we saw you that day in September with that lady in the supermarket!
Why that lady was in the supermarket with a kitten in a travelling Cat basket by the checkout we’ll never know, but Lisa and I spotted you, and we stopped the lady to ask if their were anymore kittens in the nest and gave her our telephone number. She’d inquire and let us know.
I’d wanted a kitten for Lisa for ages, as after all my little girly had been through at such a young age, with my divorce from her father and then my accident, a kitten would be good company….and also, hopefully, would get rid of the mice that had been plaguing us for ages!
We didn’t hear from the Supermarket lady and in the mean time we’d heard of another nest of kittens, and we could pick one up as soon as the kitten was old enough to leave the nest.
Then out of the blue their was a telephone call from the supermarkt lady that she had a kitten for us!
“Oh dear, we don’t want one anymore as we are getting a kitten from another nest!”
“NO! You have to take this kitten! I’ve arranged it all for you and you can’t go back on your word! I can bring the kitten to you right now!”
“Oh….okay!” and before we knew it the front door bell rang and up the stairs the supermarket lady quickly came, with the travelling Cat basket in her arms!
She then grabbed a tiny little tortoiseshell kitten out of the basket – the self same tortoiseshell kitten that we’d seen in the self same travelling Cat basket in the supermarket!- and deposited the scrawny little creature on our kitchen table, with some tins of cat food and her best wishes – “she’s a loveable little pussy cat, that loves company and likes to follow you around” – then she left!
The tiny little kitten was surely not old enough yet to leave her mother?
But Lisa and I fell for the scrawny little tortoiseshell fur ball full of fleas, that immediately, and continually, scampered up and down our jeans, leggings and bare legs, like a bat out of hell!
We thought of lots of names for her over the next few days, as you can imagine, but one name stuck and it suited.
So sixteen years ago Lisa and I christianed the little tortoiseshell fleeball… Missy!
And Missy she is and Missy she will always be…..and now she’s gone, we miss you Missy!

Can we get a dog?? No…
Pleaaase can we have a dog??? No…! No, where can we let a dog out and we live in a flat, we’ll get a kitten.. said mum
But pleeease pleaase pleaaase can we get a dog…?? No.
Ok so a kitten did sound fun… maybe this little kitten can be a dog… she bites just like a dog and she climbs on you like a dog.
I always wanted a dog. So I decided to train Missy to be a dog.
I used to wrestle with her and she used to “attack” bite and pounce on me, climb up and down your leg run up against blue wall. Bite in your ankles when you were least expecting it, and umph around the house.
She did follow you around as she hated to be left alone in a room. She loved to lay between my legs on the bed, and then she found Hans’ legs and she was in legs beds heaven.
She was very offended if I wanted a night with out Missy on my bed (as she loved to take up the whole bed between your legs lying horizontally… and then waking you up at 3 or so in the morning to nose around your bedroom) But she would not be left alone in a room. Oh well thats easy I’ve seen my owners open a door, its easy: you jump up and with my two paws I hang onto the door handle and door opens… and then of course you were woken, by little clever under cover dog cat Missy, umphing around your room in the middle of the night with her umphs getting louder and louder when she found something in your room to investigate.
Missy had her own way of loving you. I still have a scar on my shoulder where she scratched me…
….But always when I came home Missy would be standing at the open door poking her head through the rails and I could give her a kiss…

Nooit meer…
Nooit meer zal ze me ineens in mijn voet happen, of haar nagels naar me uitslaan. Nooit meer horen we haar ‘hummen’. Nooit meer komt ze naast me staan als ik ga koken om te kijken of er nog een lekker hapje te bedelen valt. Nooit meer springt ze ‘s morgens op bed, om lekker op mijn uitgestrekte benen te gaan liggen en te gaan snorren. Nooit meer komt ze ‘s morgens aangelopen als we uit bed komen. Nooit meer springt ze naar de deurknop om een gesloten deur – middenin de nacht die van de slaapkamer bijvoorbeeld – open te maken. Nooit meer draait ze om onze voeten heen, zodat je bijna over haar struikelt. Nooit meer zal ze bij de deur zitten als we thuis komen. Nooit meer maakt ze sprintjes naar de bank om mij naar die bank te lokken, zodat ze op mijn schoot kan gaan zitten. Nooit meer loopt ze ‘s morgens met me mee naar bed, als ik het theeblad draag. Nooit meer zit ze naast ons op het kussen op de bank, als we naar de tv kijken.
Missy, een poes die je moest veroveren. Mijn poes. Klein dikkertje. Knorrepoes. Oude dame. Monsterpoes. Gekke poes. Sterke Poes. Knorretje. Missypoes. Linda’s poes, Lisa’s poes.