I'm still in Pennsylvania and didn't want to bring my father's notebook on the trip. While unpacking in her new apartment, The Eldest had an old photograph album, and a photo she took of Mitty.
Before Ink, there was Mitty, a charcoal grey, tuxedo cat. He had the most beautiful, gold eyes. We adopted him from the
Buddy Dog Humane Society. We got him in 1995 though I can't for the life of me remember what month.
Mitty was the most loving cat. I think he was just so happy to be out of the shelter. When he wanted to be picked up and cuddled, he would come up behind me and stretch up, placing his paws on the pockets of my jeans.
Every morning at 4:30 AM, he wanted to go outside. And a couple of hours later he would return and bring us a decapitated mole. Every single morning. When he wanted to come in, he would leap onto the back door screen and hang there meowing until someone helped him get his claws out of the screen.
The Young One dawdled while she ate breakfast so Mitty would jump up on the table and lap the milk from her cereal bowl to help her along.
He found he could open the door to The Eldest's room by banging his head against the door a couple of times.
Mitty was a little more dog than cat, too. He came when called. When the girlies were playing in the yard, and the neighbor's big Boxer came trotting through the yard, Mitty would chase him away. And the big dog ran away whining, too!
When I called him in at night, Mitty would sometimes sit on the Leaf Lady's fence and all I would be able to see of him would be his big, gold, full moon, eyes.
One morning at 4:30 AM, I wasn't moving fast enough to let Mitty out, he nipped me on the cheek.
He liked having raspberries blown into his belly.
Sadly, Mitty was hit by a car. His injuries so severe, he had to be put down. He died in September 1997, a week before the Blessing of the Animals at The Eldest's new school, Our Lady of the Valley.
