Gedaliah’s farm is a place of cheerful contentment, or at least it is for everyone but Misty today.

The sleek, orange cat sits perched on a low fence post, her tail twitching with a tension that’s lost on the other animals. Her emerald eyes, usually full of sleepy charm, are fixed on the farmer. He’s tidily folding a stack of fresh, soft blankets and putting them into a high cupboard in anticipation of a new birth in the barn. The farmer closes the door with a satisfying click, and Misty lets out a low, thoughtful purr.

In the next pasture, two donkeys, Jack and Jennet, watch her. Jack, the more curious one, nudges Jennet. “She’s at it again,” he brays softly, his ears flicking in Misty’s direction. Jennet just gives a silent, knowing look, a quiet amusement in her dark eyes. They both know that look of Misty’s. The other animals would call it mysterious and cute; the donkeys call it a sign of impending mischief.

Misty immediately goes into action. She leaps from her perch and gracefully makes her way over to Gedaliah, who is still standing near the cupboard. With a sweet, pitiful meow, she rubs against his leg. Gedaliah, thinking she’s hungry, goes to her food bowl and fills it.

Misty watches him with a blank expression, then glides past the bowl without taking a bite. 

“Capricious as ever,” Gedaliah murmurs, giving her a gentle pet before walking away.

Misty watches him disappear, almost pouting.

Then she changes strategy. Her target this time is the goats, Percy and Pipkin, who are currently locked in a playful head-butting match, their horns making rhythmic thuds.

Misty jumps over to them, purring loudly, using her most innocent, wide-eyed gaze.

“Oh, my brave and noble guardians of the pen,” she whispers. “See this high wooden box? It holds the Great Golden Hay! A great evil has locked it away. We must get it out!”

The goats, thrilled by the idea of a heroic mission, immediately go to work. They begin to rock the cupboard door, their hooves scrambling and their tiny horns butting against the wood.

Jack and Jennet watch from their pasture, calmly chewing hay. “Ah, naivety,” Jack whispers, a low laugh in his voice. “The goats have no idea what they’re truly doing.” The donkeys can see the subtle threads of Misty’s weaving and watch the whole scene with interest.

The goats keep going but aren’t strong enough to budge the cupboard door. Pipkin starts to complain, “Percy, you’re doing it wrong! Follow my lead for once!”

“No, you’re doing it wrong! You’re not even making a dent!”

Misty soon leaves them to their fruitless mission and moves on to another strategy. While the goats are bickering, with a silent, predatory grace, she slips into the chicken coop. She makes the chickens jump, and they start to make a racket. Then she darts out and lets out a high-pitched yelp of feigned distress.

Sunny, the loyal farm dog, is on his feet in an instant. Believing a fox is afoot, he runs into the coop, barking loudly and making the chickens’ squawking and flapping worse. The chaos is magnificent.

Gedaliah comes running out. “What’s the matter, my boy?”

Sunny looks around, restless. He can’t find the threat Misty had suggested and eventually lets out a whine of disappointment.

 Gedaliah pats him on the head and moves him away from the coop to calm the chickens. He glares at the chaotic scene and, with a sigh of bafflement, decides to get a broom from the high cupboard in the barn to tidy it all up. Misty follows him closely.

As Gedaliah opens the cupboard door, the donkeys perk their ears. This is it. The climax. Misty’s ultimate objective.

As Gedaliah pulls out the broom, the precariously stacked pile of freshly folded blankets teeters and then topples to the floor in a heap. The farmer lets out a frustrated grunt. 

But before he can even bend down to pick them up, Misty, with a look of pure, unadulterated triumph, flies past the still-puzzled dog and bewildered goats. She leaps gracefully onto the softest blanket, kneading it with her paws as she circles once, twice, and then curls up into a perfect, purring ball.

Mission accomplished.

Jack lets out a long, rumbling bray that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Jennet simply shakes her head at Misty. The goats, tired from their “adventures,” look from the sleeping cat to the laughing donkeys and then back at the soft pile of blankets.

 “Somebody needs to teach this kitty what hay actually is!” Percy exclaims.

Gedaliah can’t bring himself to take the blanket from under Misty. “Ah, I’ll deal with this later.”

For everyone but the donkeys, Misty’s chaotic antics will forever remain a beautiful, bizarre enigma, a tale of a scatty, airhead of a cat.

But Misty is a puppet master. She knows how to pull all the right strings when she wants something.