In  memory: "Missy" aka "FatCat"  1992 - 2005

In late June of last year, FatCat contracted fatty liver disease for the third (!) time. She had made it through the first two episodes (I started calling her my "$3000 stray"). This last episode was different. Most cat owners who have dealt with the disease know that it typically is an indicator of a pre-existing illness.  While I could never determine the reasons for the first two episodes over the last 8 years, and though she survived both bouts, this time FatCat didn't make it through. She had cancer. She passed on June 21, 2005, at the ripe young age of 13 years old. 

This is MY purrsonal page and am I not the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen?! My name's Missy and I like to throw up!

My owner also calls me "Moosh" and "Fat Cat" (how sophomoric!). This is the cat's meow, having our own pages! I mean, I do deserve special attention considering how absolutely gorgeous I am. Have you seen my eyes? They're orange and match my fur just purrfectly. Gucci himself couldn't have done a better job. Well, on to my own story (by the way, did I tell you how gorgeous I am?).

I am one of a long string of strays my owner has a habit of picking up wherever we live. She's found homes for all the rest, but just couldn't bring herself to give me up because I'm just so darned cute! I'm a gorgeous orange tabby, with white socks and captivating orange eyes. I'm a tad on the big side at 15 pounds (yep, the Butt Fairy visited me). I have only one character flaw - I'm a major weenie - afraid of everyone but my owner.

She says she found me when I was about 10 weeks old (I'm around 6 yrs old now), along with my brother and mother, on a very cold and snowy February New York night. Actually, she found my real mother first. She started feeding her to get her trust so she could eventually grab her and get her to the vet for all that really gross stuff like testing, shots, and spaying. After a couple weeks of feeding her, my real mother started sitting on the woodpile at the top of the driveway, waiting for my owner to come home from work and feed her. On one of those occasions, me and my geeky little brother "Bud" decided it was time to make our appearance, so we popped up beside our mother. We decided that outdoor life in the winter was just too annoying for us any longer, and we trusted this human enough to allow her to take us inside her house. The rest is history.

My life is intentionally simple; I lay about, gaze out windows, eat, throw up, visit the litterpan, and sleep at my owner's side at night. When I do get energy, I swat FeeBee. Well, she's stupid enough to walk right by me, close enough so I don't have to actually get up to do it - I just reach right out and nail her, then go back to what I was doing.

I'm the only one of us that throws up all the time, like, every day! My owner says it's typical stray cat behavior. She says when strays get lucky enough to find food they gorge themselves not knowing when their next meal will come along. Then she says something really lame like, "when the cup is full, it runneth over." What-ever! She's gotten used to cleaning up after me, but she gets really upset when I barf on things like her furniture or on her shoes in the closet. I mean, it's not like I can control it! Jeez, get a life!

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Last updated: January 29, 2006