Tragic, touching story of my favorite cat's life and death.

We had four pets at the time. Jake was the white, curly-haired toy dog. Gray Guy was the gray and white fat cat. Buster was our mid-sized wrinkly pit bull. Missy was another gray and white cat: cute, lovable, and lively. Unfortunately, not everyone of these pets is with me now.

Of all our pets, Missy was my favorite. Yet, I think she loved me more than I did her. I enjoyed the warmth of her soft fur against my body when I slept. When I was lonely, she was always willing to be my friend. If I was sad, all she had to do was purr and I would feel better.

That was years ago, when I was just starting high school. One day, I was home alone and the outside gate became opened at the same time the front door was.

So Buster, who was supposed to stay in the backyard, seized the opportunity to run in. Jake ran behind the couch and Gray Guy followed. Missy made a break for my sisters’ bedroom corner. Judging an easy target, Buster ran after her, and they faced off when she had no where to escape. Buster sunk his vicious teeth into her neck, and that is the way I found them. So, I kicked him off her and he ran away obediently. My beautiful Missy, on the other hand, just lay there bleeding.

After a moment of dumfounded staring, I gently picked her up, hoping that by some miracle she’d be okay. I could hear her breathing – she was still alive. Although her neck, torn apart, foreshadowed my worst fears. I walked outside, holding her, beginning to cry, for the first time over an animal. Missy let out a hoarse mew. I tried to comfort her, but weakly, she bit at me and swatted my hand away. I sobbed, wondering what my prized kitty was thinking.

While she was in my arms, I ran to the neighbor’s house across the street. Once I got there, I knocked several times and an old man came to the door. I begged him to take Missy to a veterinarian, but despite my desperate pleas, he coldly shooed me away. I guessed he would rather not be bothered.

Then, I and headed to another neighbor’s house. This one kindly let me into her living room, and I laid Missy down on a towel. I would have liked to think that she was never alone and died in my arms, but I know she took her last breath there on the floor.

After that frightening day, Buster was put to sleep. I felt bad for him as well because I was sure he didn’t understand how much Missy meant to us.

Now it’s five years later and I’m a freshman in college. For a long time, I felt it was my fault, but I know now I couldn’t have stopped Missy or Buster from leaving us. Other pets came and went, but I remember my little friend, Missy the most.

Version 3
Brandon Layne 2000

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