Misty the Cat: Biter of Mice.

We owned an apartment building in San Francisco between eleventh street and twelfth street, and between Mission and Howard. Misty tolerated our new child Daniel, because she was a tough but fair cat, and so we did not return her to death row.

As written, she was a large female cat. She would leap impressive distances and land in silence. Because I was under the mistaken impression that the travel time from locations on Cape Ann, Massachusetts to some land that we own in Washington Vermont would be less than the travel time from Oakland airport, I took a contract working on an ion implanter at Varian Semiconductor. We I worked there for a while, and Misty aged. She was still able to control our yard, to leap and play, and bite all mice. She didn't seem to age, except for a soft thump when she landed on a table, or the ironing board, or the mantle. She was reasonable with our new sons: David and Samuel, and accompanied us when we left.

When we left, she was an ancient biter of mice

The move to Cape Ann was not a good move for us, and we moved to Ithaca New York, which is where we are now. The joke is: Ithaca is centrally isolated. The city has a large number of local colleges and universities and is drenched in beautiful music of all sorts. We sang in choirs, and it was fun. Our youngest son loved Misty. She would let him use her for a stuffed animal. She could no longer catch any but the oldest mice, let alone a rat, so we descended to traps.

She had become the biter of ancient mice.