Emma, if you are reading this -- Come Home!

Well, it seems our little Emma has gone missing. At the age of 15, she just disappeared and we fear the worst. I was the last to see her and gave her a good brushing so she would be all set for Gwanny and Gwampa's homecoming last week.

She seemed fine, so I can only imagine that something bad happened. What a poor end to such a sweet little cat. It is too bad we don't know what happened. We hope that someone will see her collar and call us. I've walked around the block a few times, and even went to check out the base of the huge tree where a bald eagle lives. No bones or cat collars...thank goodness.

Emma was a feisty, fierce, and formidable feline who weighed about four ounces. She also became the sweetest cat once my brother and I moved out. When she came in from an outing, she would talk up a storm with whomever she saw first. If you didn't acknowledge her, she would keep yammering. She was a hit at Mom's afternoon bridge.

Emma was adopted as a kitten by my sister Kim, but when Kim had to go from practicum to practicum, it was better for Emma to move to Gwanny and Gwampas. She's been coughing up hairballs on Gwampa's journals and papers ever since.

In order to live with Gwanny and Gwampa, she had to be declawed. I would agree that it is pretty harsh except that it didn't slow her down a bit. As you can see, it didn't stop her from climbing small fruit trees. And she took sole responsibility for protecting the house from the likes of Fonze who came across the fence for his regular cat nip fix. At twice her size, and with 10 sharp claws, you would think Fonze would have gotten the munchies after a cat nip session, and snacked on her ages ago.

Emma has had a few tough breaks. She was hit by a car out front on Beach Drive. We told her not to cross the street, but that didn't do her any good. She was barely alive, so my Mom took her to the vet hospital. My Dad would have driven, but he was inclined to use the frying pan to finish the job. So, my Mom took a cab.

Emma's front leg was paralyzed, but she needed to recover from her other injuries first. By the time she did, the nerves had begun to regenerate. Aside from a small twitch from time to time, she recovered completely.

And as a small kitten, she went missing for a week. We didn't find out until 7 years ago that she had been shot with a pellet gun. The recognizable hourglass shape of the pellet showed up in an x-ray she had. And when she woke up from the sedation, she had a seizure. The vet said she looked more like a 12 year old cat when she was only 8 or 9.

There is a chance Emma will come home, but it is doubtful. Emma, if you are reading this, please come home.

Random facts about Emma...in case you are still reading and don't have anywhere to be:

1. One of her nicknames is Stinkerbell...she used to wear a bell (tinkerbell), but hated being picked up...hence Stinkerbell.
2. Another one of her nicknames is Fender Face...on account of being hit in the face with a car fender.
3. Emma used to catch birds (the defenceless ones, namely old or very young). She would have the bird rammed in her mouth and would wander around the yard meowing. She was proud but dumb...as soon as we heard her, we'd rescue the bird. I figured how a declawed cat could catch a bird when I observed Evin lunging onto the bed from a high dresser -- the element of vertical surprise meant there was nowhere for the bird to go.
4. My Dad had a suitcase laid out for a trip. He awoke the next morning to finish packing when he saw muddy pawprints and fur all over his pressed dress shirts. Emma had used the clothes as a place to clean up and rest one rainy day.
5. Emma has forgiven Gwampa for wanting to finish her off with a frying pan. She sometimes sends him Father's Day cards thanking him for not hitting her over the head with a frying pan.
6. Emma was named after my Great Grandma Emma. They both happen to share birthdays (Feb 14). In many ways, Emma the cat was a lot like Great Grandma -- tough and stubborn.