Be My, Be My Maisy. My One and Only Maisy.

It’s been an eventful week. I got a flat-tire, I pulled my hip out, and my kitty, Maisy, had to go to the big kitty corral in the sky.

I got Maisy and her sister, Litty, soon after they were born in April 1999. I was in fourth grade and had never held a real baby kitten before and ended up panicking and losing control of them while we were still in the driveway. They both scurried under the car before we could even get them house and my mom had some choice words for me about responsibility. Thankfully, they survived their little detour into their new home.

They didn’t have names but once Litty started eating straight from her litter box, well, we’ve never won any awards for being creative. Family legend has it that we named Maisy after the character in Uncle Buck, but in reality (i.e. my reality, which isn’t saying much), we were all in the family room one night with the lights off, about to watch a movie, when there was a commercial for either McDonald’s or Burger King or some other fast food chain, that was giving away Maisy Mouse cartoons or toys. My mother said “Maisy, that’s a nice name” and it stuck.

Being in fourth grade in 1999, we had recently got a family computer to which someone would say I got “excessive” use out of. We received some kind of CD ROM that had all sorts of graphics on it to make posters, awards, etc. Naturally, that meant I had to make official documents stating that Maisy was mine and Litty was my brother’s. Hot of the HP they were shot down almost immediately by the rest of the family. I even had a clause stating that switching ownership was permissible but no one ever reads the fine print.

I grew up with Maisy through grade school and high school, and sure enough she would always be waiting on my bed when I got home from college. I moved out a few years after graduation and would still come and visit my mother and the kitties at least once a month. Every time I left, I would always make sure to kiss each cat and say goodbye. I was home this past weekend and had to rush back to my home (a little less than 2 hours away) to make the pharmacy. I forgot to kiss Maisy goodbye.

A few days later, she appeared to have had a stroke and had renal failure. She made a trip to the vet but being almost 92 in cat years, they said any procedure would only be prolonging the inevitable and it would be wise to consider quality of life. My mom took her home. She seemed to be in pain and stopped eating. A nice veterinarian was able to make a house call a little over a day later and help Maisy take  the big nap.

I miss her already and feel like I’m functioning on a very base level (if I’ve made errors in syntax or grammar, just let this one slide please).

Here she is in her natural habitat, desperately trying to force herself under my sheets.

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