Out near my dad’s barn, a small tortoiseshell cat appeared one day — delicate, beautiful, and far smaller than the rest of the barn cats. Out in the country, unwanted cats are often left behind, and my dad worried she wouldn’t survive. So he trapped her, took her in, and had her fixed, hoping to give her a chance at life.

He named her Miss Molly. Though he was a truck driver and gone often, he made sure she was fed and checked on her whenever he was home. He’d talk to her softly in the barn, and she learned to trust his voice.

In January 2018, my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. Before he passed, he introduced Miss Molly to me. She came to live under my car porch — cautious, proud, and still preferring the outdoors. We had our disagreements about where she should eat: I said indoors, she said outdoors.

A few months later, she couldn’t walk. The vet found a severe ear infection, and later a polyp. We tried treatments, but Miss Molly grew angry and stopped eating. After talking with the vet, I decided to let her be. And just like that, she began eating again.

Now, three years later, she still walks a little funny, but she gets around just fine. Sometimes she even naps on my bed in the daytime — a quiet reminder of her strength and the bond she shared with my dad.

written by Janie