It's hard to say exactly when I discovered there was a name for my condition.

More than that, it wasn't just my condition. Millions of people, I have discovered, have all the symptoms:

Moving things a quarter of an inch. Straightening pictures on the walls of complete strangers. Or in a doctor's office. Getting exasperated when something -- movie, church, dinner, for example -- doesn't start exactly when it was supposed to. Accosting anyone who uses a preposition to end a sentence with.

Yes, millions of us have OCD. That's obsessive compulsive disorder. Some of us have OCD and don't even know it, because we are too obsessed or too compulsive, or both, to notice.

I'm not aware that OCD is a fatal condition, although those of us with OCD may be in harm's way from those who find our little quirks so gosh-darn irritating.

Well, two funny things involving OCD occurred this past week. And get this: One of the funny things involved -- guess who? -- Missy Kitty.

First funny thing: I was looking at one of those seasonal catalogs that have started filling our mailbox. This particular catalog featured witty sayings on T-shirts and sweatshirts. I would be unlikely to wear one, but I find many of the sayings to be downright funny.

One example was a sweatshirt with these big, bold letters:

"CDO"

Underneath, in much smaller letters was this explanation:

"It's like OCD, but the letters are arranged in alphabetical order, the way they should be."

Finally, someone had the guts -- someone with severe OCD -- to set this straight. I felt so much better.

Second funny thing: Anyone who abides the existence of cats knows that they are the most obsessive, most compulsive animals on the face of the earth.

Pet cats, in particular, develop routines that can be altered by humans only at their own peril.

So it will come as no surprise to anyone that Missy Kitty is as obsessive and compulsive as they come.

Her daily routine is like a looped video. First comes the morning visit to the kitchen for her first round of milk, which she may or may not consume based on whether there is dry cat food in her dish in the garage. Next comes pawing the living room windows so she can come back in and beg for more milk, even though she just had milk not more than 10 minutes ago. When it is apparent to Missy Kitty that no more milk will be poured, she goes to her chair, takes a bath and goes to sleep.

That's Round One of Missy Kitty's day. It is followed by Round Two, which is exactly the same, at midday, and by Round Three, which is exactly like One and Two, in late afternoon.

Finally, exhausted from keeping us on schedule, Missy Kitty goes to her comfy bed in the garage for the night.

This routine does allow, however, for minor variations. There are the outdoor explorations that take Missy Kitty to places unknown to us, sometimes for several hours at a time. And there are the occasional moments when Missy Kitty decides her catnip toy is something meant for enjoyment.

The catnip toy is a small ball knitted from tough yarn and filled with homegrown catnip by the woman who knits the balls and sells them at the farmers market. Of all the toys that have been presented to Missy Kitty in her lifetime, these catnip balls are by far her favorite.

Most of the time, the catnip ball resides just under the edge of the armoire that houses our TV. Occasionally Missy Kitty will pull out the ball and bat it a couple of times. That's it.

This past week, when the house was being cleaned, the catnip ball was picked up and put on the coffee table next to Missy Kitty's chair. During one of her routine visits to the chair, Missy Kitty started by giving herself a good cleaning.

Suddenly, Missy Kitty stopped licking herself and zeroed in on the catnip ball on the table. She looked at the table, then she looked at the opening under the armoire.

Finally, Missy Kitty cautiously jumped down from her chair. Something wasn't right. And there would be no rest or relief until it was set straight.

Gently, Missy Kitty sat up on her hind legs and put her front paws on the coffee table. She stared at the misplaced catnip ball for a few seconds before gingerly reaching over with a front paw and pushing the ball onto the floor next to the armoire.

It was clear that the world, once again, had been set aright. Missy Kitty jumped into her chair, curled up and went to sleep.

OCD. Kitty-style.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.