By Jeanette M. Pintar - with inspiration from Misty

Some people find it easy to speak out loud to themselves, God, animals, plants, etc. Other are more self conscious… after all, our society has a lot of stigmas about what being a little "crazy" or "off center" looks like. And when it comes to the emotional stuff, oh boy! Let's not even go there. But Misty had a way of making us go there. If Mark wasn't home on time, Misty worried and she let me know it, pacing back and forth from window to door, meowing to say, "Hey, Dad's not home yet and he should be!" When I was having a down day, Misty would nuzzle up and purr as if to say, "I love you, everything's going to be okay." Misty was also very good at communicating the fact that she missed us when we went away, whether it was for a few hours or a few days.

Misty had deep-rooted abandonment issues and hyperventilated in (or anywhere near) cars. We believe her previous owners drove her to some outlying suburbs and literally tossed her out the car door. Needless to say, traveling with Misty was not a very good option. We did try it once, but she was so scared she fought an extra-strength tranquilizer, meowing and hyperventilating in the car almost the entire way from Atlanta to Milwaukee. Realizing how traumatic this experience had been for her, any time we traveled after that we would hire people we knew to take care of Misty in her own home environment. This proved to be a much better solution and upon our return Misty would greet us at the door, meowing, wrapping herself around our legs, purring and telling us, "I really missed you. I'm so happy you're home." At which point we would drop our suitcases to pet Misty, rub her ears and tell her how much we missed her, loved her, and how happy we were to see her. If Misty had been treated particularly well by her "Uncle Joe" or "Uncle Bill" she would wait until we were unpacked and give us the "Oh, you're home?" treatment with a few head-buts before her affections.

Pretty soon we had the travel routine down pat and Misty recognized that whenever the suitcase came out she would be left alone. In protest she would plop herself down in it and give a sassy-sweet "I'm not moving" meow until we told her where we were going, how long we'd be gone, and who would be watching her. I actually came to cherish these antics because I knew I would be missed and it gave me the opportunity to tell Misty we would miss her, too. It also helped me learn to say these words to others I care for deeply but had trouble with saying it. And when it came time for our ultimate good-byes, "I miss you" became an easy transition for "I love you." Even now that Misty's soul has graduated I still can say, "I miss you" and feel the love that flowed between us.

Remember: Tell people - and animals - that you miss them.

--- © Jeanette M. Pintar, inspired by Misty