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Magnu and Misha
Greg Ordy
After Chan died, I thought I would never get another pet. That philosophy worked for a few years. One day, I was walking in a local park with a friend and we spotted a little kitty, apparently all alone. She came up to us, and looked to be very young. There really was nobody around, and being in a park, there were no houses nearby. After waiting a reasonable amount of time for any owner to come looking for her, we took her home. While walking home, we talked about a name. For some unknown reason, I blurted out the name Magnu. Don't ask me what it means, I still don't know.
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Magnu was a mess. In fact, this was my first encounter with fleas. What fun. When I first took her to the vet, I asked the vet for an age estimate. My estimate was a few months, at most. The vet, based upon her teeth, gave me an estimate of several years. What a shock. Could this little girl have been wandering the woods for that long, hungry and unloved? We cleaned her up, got rid of the fleas, and got her healthy.
I must be honest. Maggie, as we came to call her, was never quite normal. I always attributed it to her early years. She liked to climb up on the roof of the house. She always ate like the proverbial pig, but never really gained much weight. She was very odd, but in a lovable kind of way. She was unique.
Since Charlie and Chan were such good companions, I thought about getting a second cat to pal around with Magnu. Another factor was that I had just moved out of the city to a larger house in a much more rural area, in fact the house where I still live. Another friend had a Russian Blue cat that seemed to be a wonderful cat. After checking the various breed books, the choice was made to get a Russian Blue kitten. There happened to be a breeder in the area, and we paid her several visits. Finally, in June of 1987, we brought Misha (pronounced Mee-sha) home. Unlike Magnu, who came from the woods, with an unknown history, we knew everything about Misha. She was pedigree through and through. I have the papers to prove it. Her father was a CFA Grand Champion.
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Misha is a very small cat. She's teeny. She is a bit high-strung, which I attribute, at least partly, to being a purebred. Misha and Magnu never had trouble between them, but the deep relationship that existed between Charlie and Chan, litter mates, never emerged with Misha and Magnu.
Misha has her own strange traits. She loves to lick my nose. Not just a little, but a lot. She is also the first cat I ever knew that would fetch objects. I have recently met another cat that fetches, so perhaps this is not that rare. Misha is more than happy to sleep all day. She will literally spend the entire day in bed, and never see daylight.
Magnu died in September of 1995. Compared to the other cats in my life, she did not live that long. Of course I never really knew how old she was, or what those first years were like.
Misha, however, is going strong, recently achieving her tenth birthday. She only eats quality dry food, and sleeps all day. I expect her to be around for a very long time.
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| Misha's First Album |
That would seem to be the end of my pet story. Well, it would be, except for the bird. I can't forget Zuri.
Last update:
Saturday, August 02, 2003 03:13 PM
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