In approximately the Spring of 1994, a couple, who shall remain nameless, brought their cat, Misha, a short hair Persian exotic, to the San Mateo Animal Hospital for a checkup.

It was determined that Misha was healthy other than testing positive for cat lukemia. It wasn't active, but the test was positive. Misha was about 13 years old at the time.

The owners didn't want anything less than perfection in their pets, so they asked Dr. Rex to put the cat to sleep. Dr. Rex was appalled, picked Misha up off the examination table, took two steps back and read them the riot act. "We DO NOT kill animals to suit the narrow minded social conveniences of people who shouldn't have children, let alone pets". Dr. Rex left the room with Misha and had the previous owners escorted off the hospital grounds.

Misha became the Dr's back office cat. (He already having one in the front office. (-: ) The office opened out onto the alley shared with us Aanraku Stained Glass. Misha, on our first day in business came over, introduced herself as Imperial Empress of Palm Place (She named herself she told us.) and told us we could stay if we were good neighbors and would obey her Imperial edicts. We agreed. What choice did we have? (-:

Over the next two years, every morning when we would open the door to the studio, Misha would dash in, circle and inspect the inside of the studio two or three times, tell us we passed inspection, then leave us to our work until later in the day.

After doing whatever cats do for several hours, Misha would return to the studio for her afternoon nap. She would come to the busy studio, find the busiest table, and it was your tough luck if your project was in the middle of the table she chose, jump up on the table, curl up into a ball in the center and go to sleep, the grinding, banging, cutting, yelling, swearing, etc., notwithstanding.

This was our life with Misha for the next 2 1/2 years.

In March, 2000, Misha came in the evening, which in itself was unusual, and perched on the top of one of the work tables and summoned me. "Jeffrey", she said, "Take my picture!" She commanded. Being a loyal subject I did, wondering why after 2 1/2 years she wanted her picture taken now.

Two days later, Dr. Rex came to me and asked me if I wanted to say goodbye to Misha. At 19 years of age, Misha was finally wearing out and had gone into renal failure. She didn't have much time left.

I visited the hopsital later that day and saw a dirty, flat, scrubby, natty, ugly mess on the floor of one of the cages in the hospital's surgery room. 50 years old and I'm still soft in the heart. This was NOT the misha I knew and it broke my heart to see her like that. I cried all the way out the door after saying my goodbyes. Sadly I returned to the studio now understanding what Misha wanted for her memorial.

This panel dedicated to Misha now hangs in the San Mateo Animal Hospital lobby where she can continue to keep an eye on her neighborhood and those she loved.

We miss you Misha.