RIP Missan 1993-2012

Christmas 2009

Fuck. What a horrible day.

When I was eight years old I got a little kitten for Christmas. It was black, white, orange, tiny and so cute. It had a little white dot at the tip of the tail. My big wish had come true. I named her Missan.

Pretty fast she took over as queen of the house. We were her servants. Or, that’s the way she wanted it to be. In reality she like us a whole lot, I know that.

When I grew up she has always been there, waiting for me after school, after practice, after trips. She slept in my bed, laid in my lap, purred.

No matter how long I was gone, like when I lived in Gothenburg or in the States, she has always shown her appreciation as soon as I have come home.

She has lived a very active life. She had four kittens, that we sold, she was outdoors all the time, she hunted, she jumped around, played tricks, picked a fight with the magpies, picked a fight with a pheasant (only once, tohugh), climbed trees, ran in the fields, defended her territory, tried to carry home a baby bunny and much more. She had had a active and great life.

She got older, but it was hard to notice for a long time. All her life she was curious, alert and happy. But the last couple of months she got old very fast. Trouble walking, her hearing got worse, she slept for 23 hours a day. When she walked in the stairs she was in pain. You could hear that.

We hoped she was to get one last summer, but today it didn’t work any more. Mom called me at work, saying she had talked to a vet and that there was really one humane thing to do.

We went all three to the pet hospital. Every year we took her there to get her annual flu shot, and every time she hated that and us. Today she was calm. Seemed to enjoy herself. That made it so much worse.

I have never had to do something like this, and it was horrible. But I was with her till the end and got to say goodbye.

Now we will bury her in one of her favorite spots, that’s the least we can do.

Thank you for everything, Missan. You were an amazing friend and you have meant so much, both to a little eight-year-old boy as to a twenty-seven-years old.

Rest in peace.