To bring you up to date � in case you didn't read the previous column � Misty, a little black-and-white cat, wandered into our farmyard about six years ago and found a home. Phyllis fed her and, of course, she stayed.
She became our "outdoor kitty" who came running on stubby legs each time she saw us. We never did figure out where she slept when she wasn't hunting.
Phyllis always said: "Isn't she cute?" � even when she snatched up a baby wren or laid in wait by the bird bath.
When we moved to town, my wife made regular trips to the country to feed the ever-famished feline, no longer forlorn.
Phyllis tried religiously to find somebody to care for Misty. (I think she prayed a lot.) Finally Jen Holst � from whom we bought our city abode � agreed to take her.
Then the first happenstance occurred.
When Bill Holst, Jen's father-in-law, came for a visit, he exclaimed when he saw Misty: That's Boots, my cat who ran away six years ago!"
Needless to say, I was overjoyed that Boots � or Misty (Phyllis's name for the cat she had adopted) � was once again with her rightful family. At last I had gotten rid of Misty � or Boots � and got my wife back.
But that's not the end of the story.
The younger Holsts decided not to give Boots � or Misty � back to Bill but to keep her instead. They made a nice home for her in their screened-in porch where she resided happily, until they let her out to see if she'd stay.
Zip! Misty was gone again.
She didn't go back to Phyllis's cat dish a mile away. She apparently didn't remember that she was really Boots and wanted to return to Bill.
She also didn't meet that lascivious tomcat to tell him about her operation which Phyllis had arranged for her.
Instead she showed up at the Fleer residence � and therein lies another coincidence. It seems that Geof Fleer, the son, works for Jan and Pat Garrity, our kids who own Garritys' Prairie Gardens.
Geof fed her, of course, and once again the philandering cat has found a friend. All you have to do is provide a meal, and she is yours. All yours!
Now we don't know what is next for Misty or Boots or whatever her name is. The Fleers may get tired of her, and what will she do then? Run away again?
I thought I was rid of her when we moved to town. Now I'm afraid to open the garage door because � perish the thought! � that cat might be there.
I've heard of two-legged gold-diggers, but a four-legged cat? Misty doesn't need an invitation. All you have to do is open another can of cat chow, and she'll be there.
I wonder where Misty is now!?!
� 2005 Robert F. Karolevitz