Once again, life goes on…

I got Missy’s ashes back yesterday. I put her in the pretty purple urn I found on ebay. I put her collar on top, like I do for all of my cats. Below is a shot of the memorial shelf with paw impressions on the left, then DJ in green, Missy in purple and Dickens in black – with their collars on top. There’s also one of Bernadette’s collars (the purple one), since she disappeared. I’ve got Hobbes’ paw print in with the others on the left. (Hobbes was Andy’s cat who went to CA with him, but Andy gave me the paw print to keep.) Hobbes’ pic is on the left, the other grey stripey on the right is Dickens.

Memorial Shelf
Memorial Shelf

So, Missy has been laid to rest. I only cried a little at bed time. I think I’ve cried it all out for now. But she is still the first thing I miss in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. Sigh.

Life goes on. We drank wine and plotted our next moves with Player One last night. You just gotta keep moving forward. It’s not easy. But you’ve got no choice, really. Sigh.

Missy Kat: Dec 2003 – Aug 10, 2016

Today, we say goodbye to our old girl, Missy Kat. She has been on a steep decline in the last month and today she can’t even get up, so our vet is coming here is meeting us at the clinic to put her out of her misery this afternoon. She was unconscious all day, and the vet wanted $250 for a home visit, so we opted to take her in, which was still $125. I consider that VERY pricey and a little rude, actually. I had a big cry last night and I’m sure I’ll cry more today. It is going to be a long day. We said goodbye at around 3:30pm then took her to Deceased Pet Care after. The cremation service is $185 plus $45 for a terra cotta paw print. I cried all day.

Missy at Maplehurst 09

Missy showed up at my door when we lived on Derrydown, back in 2003. She showed up in the early fall and would come in and out with the herd o’ cow cats that were in the neighborhood at the time. I would leave the back door open and the neighborhood cats would come and go. One day, this little cow cat with a heart shape on her nose came in. She was very friendly and made herself at home. She was already spayed and in good health, so we have always assumed that she was an old lady’s cat and was abandoned when the old lady died. Of course, they always say that a cat is “around two” when you find them, but my vet and I think that Missy was more like 5 when I got her. If you do the math, that makes her around 18 years old, which tracks with her overall health. She’s been an old lady for several years now, since before we left Maplehurst in 2014. She has not hunted or been interested in going out since we’ve been here and she has been mostly deaf for over a year. So, she is VERY old for sure.

Missy stayed around the apartment and when it got colder, I’d let her in. One day she joined me for a nap, put her head on my elbow, and that was it. When we bought the house on Maplehurst in Dec 2003 and moved in Jan 2004, we took her with us along with Dickens (who died in Feb 04), DJ (May 2014) and Bernadette (MIA 2009). They were all so freaked out by the move that they actually SHARED the bed for a few weeks! It was a tight squeeze at night.

Dickens, DJ, Bernie and Missy 04

All my cats from this era are now gone. Time marches on. Sigh. I really didn’t want to have any pets after Missy, but Shasti turned up and, well, I still have a cat. She sort of came with this house. The neighbor told me that she’d been around for about six months when we moved in (Jun 14) and she is so pretty, I started feeding her. She is what I call semi-feral, but she has taken to being a mostly indoor cat very well. She chooses to stay in most of the time and I’m confident that she was an indoor cat: she’s fixed, likes knitted products and loves toys. I think she’s about 3 years old at this point. Shasti is very sweet, but still skittish and hard to handle – she is a big cat. This one will never take to being moved – hell, I can’t even get her into a carrier. But life goes on and cat bound I shall be.

Missy always slept on my elbow or shoulder. I called her a Pirate cat since she would lay on my shoulder like a pirate’s parrot. She has always been “my” cat. She likes lap and has always cuddled with me during naps. Missy has always had lots of personality and has always bossed around the other cats. She is my first cow cat. Her fur is soft like a bunny’s. She has pretty eyes and that heart shaped nose that I just adore. (Sorry about the verb tenses being mixed. I’m not used to being without her yet.)

Missy Kat Closeup

Missy’s shenanigans with chipmunks in her prime even made it to Think Weasel! I like this one especially:
2010-10-12_example_chipmunk

And YES she did bring a chipmunk in and put it in the bathtub. Good times! She brought them in quite a few times, in an effort to sharpen my non-existent hunting skills, no doubt.

She also had an obsession with water. She’d climb into the birdbath, lick puddles and especially loved getting into the bathtub after we showered. Silly thing!

I am heartbroken that my Missy is gone. She was a great cat and I’ll miss her for a long time. Why can’t someone make a cat that lives as long as we do? We know that their time with us is limited and we know the heartbreak that awaits, yet we have pets because of the joy they bring to us. I always question whether it’s worth it when they die, but overall, I have to say YES it is worth it. Pets are pure love and remind us that life is short, so live every day the best you can. RIP Missy Kat.

All my jobs!

This is a FB thing, but I think it’s interesting, so here is my checkered list of jobs in my 50 years (I’m sure I missed some)!

Knoxville
Shoney’s server
Quincy’s line girl
Long John Silvers cod girl (f/t morning prep, got my first apt. Ca. 1985?)
Domino’s phones, cook, delivery
Chili’s server
American Favoritz (locally owned) server
O’Charley’s server

Atlanta
OptiWorld optometric assistant
lots of temp work as receptionist all over ATL
Eudora Mail trainer w/ small training company
Shop n Check worked at office to coordinate secret shoppers and take reports
retail at a kitchen store (can’t remember name)
Coffee Plantation coffee sales, barista
SteinMart

Back to Knoxville after college
SteinMart
U102/Star94 radio stations outside sales (used that AA in Music Business from Art Institute!)
SoftKey International Mac Queue phone support (used that Spanish/French BA from GA State!)

Back to ATL because Knoxville sucks
SteinMart (I logged about 8 yrs at SteinMart all together)
opened the first ATL Starbucks (sucked, btw)
Crescent Moon restaurant weekend host, which led to
Alternative Dining (2 Crescent Moon restaurants, $1 Million+ revenue) A/P, graphic design, payroll, websites, office manager
Mimosa Salon front desk

Current
Taqueria El Vecino A/P, graphic design, websites, social media, office manager
Boneless Cat Designs Etsy shop, fine silver jewelry
IndigoDragon Studios Artistic Director
Player One Arcade Services A/R, logistics, management

And now I am unemployable! LOL Too much time being my own boss. And tattoos. And purple hair. :P

Happy Blogiversary!

Today marks the 17th anniversary of misangela.com.

My whole life is in here, folks. All of it: good, bad, ugly, lovely.

I’ve been an internet oversharer for a very long time and I hope to continue until my last day. :)
Screen Shot 2016-06-21 at 4.42.18 PM

This is my story. This is my life. This is my legacy.

It ain’t much, but it’s mine.

Thanks for reading! XO
Overshare!

The Tale of Hyline Scooter

I was in the horse showing business briefly in the late 70s. I think it was 78-79 or so, which would’ve made me 13-14. Sounds about right. Might’ve been 77, since I remember Seattle Slew winning the Triple Crown. This is a story I can’t believe I haven’t written about before! It was a big deal in my life and it cemented my feelings about my family and their dysfunctions. Much of it, I simply cannot remember – probably because I was so confused and unhappy.

To set the stage, let me first explain my family’s logic when dealing with pretty much anything. They truly believe that ignorance can be overcome with money. If you don’t know about ______________ (insert subject), then all you need to do is buy the top of the line stuff having to do with that subject and you’ll magically know all you need to know about it and be successful at it. They’ve done it many, many times over the years with anything from horses, to restaurants, to cars, to guitars. Not joking. Knowing this proclivity, let me tell you the tale of my sad stint in the horse showing business.

As most teen girls, I loved horses. We had two old nags at the house, so I’d been around them a bit, but I wanted to show horses, which the nags couldn’t do. So, in true Pratt fashion, my father goes and finds an expensive, pedigreed greenbroke 2 year old gelding named Hyline Scooter for me. I think this horse cost $3000 – a LOT at the time. And of course, he had to have a custom built trailer to go with the horse, which was another $5000 at least. And I had to have a show saddle, so we drove from Knoxville to Germantown TN (Memphis) to purchase a saddle for around $1500. I have no documentation or pix of this time period, so all prices are from my less than stellar memory. I’d ask my mother, but this whole incident is never spoken about because it shows their stupidity.

Anyway, my parents spend all this money on my whim – remember, I’d never shown a horse, been to a show or anything – and find these sketchy ass trainers in Loudon TN, where my horse was boarded and I would go every weekend to train. Or so they told my parents.

What actually happened was I’d go down there to ride my horse and they would not let me. They told me I was fat and didn’t know how to ride, so I had to ride the other horses until I was more capable and/or lost weight. Which made sense to me at the time – it never occurred to me that 115# was NOT too much for a horse to carry. They just used my insecurities against me. Apparently my parents never checked up to see what was going on down there and they didn’t know I could never ride my own horse. But I’m certain I told them about it, so I guess they just chose to believe the Embertons’ LIES rather than my accounts. Since they were completely ignorant about horses and showing horses, they put 100% confidence in these horrible people rather than, say, INVESTIGATE what was going on.

They “trained” me to show Scooter at halter, which means stand there and let the judges look at the horse. Halter competition is strictly about the horse’s looks and conformation, it has nothing to do with the person holding the lead. But I nonetheless accepted this as OK and showed him at halter.

In the meantime, the Embertons (Jeri and Milton), were beating the shit out of my horse and were generally abusive to all the horses in their care. They’d tie them up and beat them, put them in “bitting rigs” (which is basically tying the horse’s head to its side in full bridle and saddle) and leave them there ALL DAY, and they’d ride them for hours to exhaust them. The Embertons were horrible people and I’m glad that Milton died about 10 years ago at 58. I hope it was a painful illness. I can’t find that bitch Jeri, sadly, but I hope she dies painfully as well. They were abusive to the animals and to me.

The Embertons would not let me ride Scooter, but I could groom him and pet him, which he loved. He was the sweetest boy. Which is why it pisses me off SO MUCH that they beat him. They also drugged him. At one show, he was disqualified because he tested positive for a sedative. Of course the trainers denied it (!!), but that was the beginning of the end of my horse showing.

I only went to one season of shows all in the E TN region. Very little actual showing for me. Milton rode Scooter in Western Pleasure, but I don’t think he won anything because Scooter hated him and wouldn’t comply.

So finally my parents got the idea that the Embertons were using my horse for themselves and not letting me near him, so they confronted the Embertons about it. A fight ensued and we ended up in court. I remember being called to testify and being very nervous, but that’s all I remember about the hearing. The dispute was over who owned the horse. Apparently the Embertons had filed for ownership papers with the AQHA (American Quarter Horse Association) and used their influence to get the papers without any of us signing him over. So they showed up with ownership papers and the judge ruled in their favour. Of course my father blamed the judge and said he was bribed. Nope, it was IGNORANCE that screwed that pooch. I’m sure we could have won a real dispute – after all, I HAD the ownership papers for Scooter, but that would require logic and confronting the AQHA, which my parents were too ignorant to know how to do.

All this is my parents’ fault, of course. They were completely ignorant of the horse showing business and assumed that buying top of the line stuff (horse, trailer, etc.) would ensure my success. Truth of the matter is that the Embertons knew a patsy when they saw one and they totally stole that horse, knowing they could get the papers changed at the AQHA, which is a bunch of asshat good ole boys.

All I got out of it was a year or two of cleaning out stalls, riding nags and a couple of shows. And lots of bullying about how fat I was and how bad a rider I was. I’d never ridden much, remember. My mother was “shocked” when I reminded her of this abuse years later – even though I’m sure I mentioned it at the time.

The Embertons gave us back the saddle, bridle and show halter, but kept the horse. They sold him for a tidy profit, no doubt, since he was now 4-5 years old and in his prime. I’ve asked the AQHA for his records, but I doubt those assholes will give them to me. As I said, I don’t have a single pic of Scooter or me when I was showing. Shows how much my parents thought of it.

I was devastated by this whole drama. I just wanted my horse and I wanted to ride him. But thanks to my parents’ inability to ADULT, this period of my life was pretty horrible. I felt like it was my fault because I was fat and untalented. Only with the distance of years and wisdom, I can now see that this is just another in a long line of SHIT experiences brought to me by my fucked up family. They don’t mean to be abusive, but their ignorance just lends itself to constant abusive neglect.

I still love horses and maybe I’ll get one if we retire to the desert. I enjoy horse racing immensely and I’d bet on all the races if I didn’t live in buttfuck GA. But my attitude towards trainers and the AQHA are: they can eat a bag of dicks. I know there is abuse a plenty in the racing industry (Jeri and Milton were from Kentucky and had been race horse trainers) but I really don’t think that racing itself is abusive to the horses. They are made for running and they are at their most amazing when they are running. I get emotional watching horses race just from the sheer beauty of it.

I know that Hyline Scooter did become a very successful show horse after the Embertons sold him. I remember seeing a blurb about him in the AQHA book. I hope the AQHA will give me a copy of his records, I’d like to know how he did. I wish I had pix of him, he was a beautiful horse. I can’t believe that I don’t have a single pic of us. Not one. My mother probably threw them away, knowing her. Sigh. I cannot find any pix or records of Scooter via the web. Records from back then are scarce.

So that’s my career in horse showing. It was short and painful. I hope the Embertons rot in hell for doing that to a 14 year old girl. As for my parents, eh, it’s just another in a long list of shit they gave me. They are paying for it now with horrible health, dementia and overall malaise. Of which I have no part. And I’m FINE with that.