Miss Prissy Girl

Beloved Cat, Loyal Friend, Family Member

Miss Prissy Girl came into our lives not because we went looking for her, but because she found us.

One day, a tiny, scruffy, pregnant stray cat went from door to door looking for a safe place to have her babies. Somehow, she chose our house. I coaxed her inside, worried that if I let her out again, she might never come back. But she had already made up her mind. We were her family.

Not long after, she showed just how much she trusted me. While giving birth to her five beautiful kittens, she wanted me beside her. When I got up and walked away, she came running after me with a kitten half-delivered, unwilling to continue without her person nearby. That was Prissy: determined, loyal, and always very sure of what she wanted.

Over the years, the small, scruffy stray transformed into a large, beautiful chocolate-colored cat with luxurious fluffy fur and an even larger personality. She was smart, opinionated, stubborn, and endlessly lovable.

Prissy preferred simple things. She loved sleeping in a cardboard box under the bed. She often chose the hardwood floor over soft cat beds. She had a favorite blanket downstairs on the couch. During rainy nights, she would sometimes stay out for hours and come back home soaked through. We would lay down a towel for her, and she would curl up on it while she dried, perfectly content with her royal treatment.

She was fiercely loyal to her people.

When our family went away for a week and a relative watched the house, Prissy stayed hidden almost the entire time. Yet within a minute of us coming home, there she was, appearing out of nowhere, looking irritated that we had dared to leave. She knew the difference between someone caring for her and her family coming home.

She especially watched over me. Whenever I was upset, hurt, angry, or crying, Prissy somehow knew. She would come to me, rub against me, and offer comfort in the only way a cat can. Even near the very end of her life, when she was already unwell, she climbed the stairs to find me after hearing me upset during an argument. Comforting her people mattered to her, even when she didn't feel good herself.

For most of her life, she was firmly "Mommy's girl." But in her later years, she began spending more time with my husband, Tony. She would jump up onto the arm of the couch and sit beside him, something she had never really done before. He fed her, brushed her, loved her, and eventually fell completely under her spell. By the end, she belonged to both of us.

Prissy was so much a part of our household that we had an entire box of food labeled "Prissy Only." She had her own preferences, her own habits, her own routines, and she made sure everyone knew about them.

She was not just a pet.

She was family.

When kidney failure finally stole her health, Tony and I made the heartbreaking decision to let her rest. We stayed with her until the end. We stroked her, talked to her,  and loved her, just as we had loved her for eleven years.

There will never be another Prissy.

No other cat will be as smart, as stubborn, as loyal, or as uniquely herself.

She entered our lives as a frightened little mother searching for safety. She spent eleven years surrounded by love, comfort, treats, cardboard boxes, soft towels, and the two people she had chosen to trust.

Miss Prissy Girl was deeply loved from the day she found our door until the day we said goodbye.



And she will be missed for the rest of our lives.



Fat Kitty - Forever our girl.