Missy,
No longer can I hold you in my arms, scratch you under your chin, or openly admire your glossy fur, poke gentle fun at the special white spot on your right fore paw while asking you “where’s your white spot, call you Miss or Poot or Long Paw, or Ole knucklehead, watch you watching me from the floor as I came out from the shower, watch you jump on the bed when asked, smile as you played whale and breached the end of the bed, have you come and wake me up diligently at 5am every morning only to have you figure it out by Sunday (you always needed one day to figure out the wake up time) watch you sit outside in the sun all day long while I was home, watch as you pretended to be awake when I came into the house, only to walk back to the bedroom with me following you as you threw yourself onto the carpet, exhausted, letting me rub your beautiful upper chest and kiss your cheek hello over and over again, argue with you that I need a bit more room to maneuver the mouse, find out where you were hiding during our games of hide ‘n seek and have you find me, chase you down the hallway, feeling joy course through me when I heard you racing down the hall inviting me to play – it worked almost every time, the click of your back nails as you walked over the hardwood floor, to just look at how special and unique and honored I felt by having you trust me and trying hard
not to take you for granted.
I can’t remember your meow anymore, but I’ll always remember the sonorous calming effect
of your loud and loving purr.
It’s been close to 4 weeks that you’ve been gone and while I can go days now, I still miss you so much at times like this. You were really a special Miss and I wish somehow I could see you again strong and healthy and just kiss the top of your perfect, soft head the way you would allow me
to over and over again.
See you later Sweetie-Pie, Pootster-girl.
See you ’round.
Missing you always,
| Miss Tiger Lily - Missy |
| 29, July 2005 |
| Donna Brickus-Hollett |