Mussey was a soft, gentle grey cat. He was possibly a Russian Blue, British Blue, or Chartreux mix. This was my only childhood pet. In fact, because of what happened, I avoided ever having a cat until much later in life. Mussey is one of the most comforting memories I have of when I was growing up.

I don't remember how we got him or exactly how long we had him. He slept in the basement play area and my father let him out every morning about 7am when he left for work. Mussey would run up three sets of stairs to get to my bedroom. He would leap onto the end of my bed for a short nap before I went to school. I used to carry him around the house and was probably the only one who petted him. I was the one who fed him but I know my mother got stuck with litter box duty. He had a small shoebox size litter box and sometimes he missed. That probably had a lot to due with his disappearance. However, I was barely six years old so I could only do what I was capable of doing.

One day I came home and was told that my parents took him to my grandfather's farm in Pennsylvania. There really was a farm next to his dairy so I believed the story. For years I would look around the dairy barn whenever someone took me by there. When I was away at college about ten years later some people were talking about stories parents tell their children when they take the family pet to the animal shelter to get rid of them. That was the first time I thought maybe something else had happened. I never asked my parents because I didn't want to hear the truth out loud. I finally asked 50 years later and my mother doesn't remember the cat! I just wanted to know what really happened to him. I have one photo to add here when I find it.

He isn't really the father of any cats. But all of the kitties needed to be linked, so I am pretending he is the head of the family. My Barnee cat and his siblings are linked to their real biological mother, Mrs. Pootersville.