Kipp

Waiting At The Rainbow Bridge

STAR STAR STAR STAR STAR STAR

Kippy was unique in appearance and in personality, more like a loveable little gremlin than a cat. Just before his second birthday in October 1990, I allowed him to be put outside at night. He was run over and killed.

Starting at the beginning....
My daughter Jo and I got Kippy and his brother, Max, from a cat mill when they were about 2 1/2 months old. They were living in a small cage among many other small cages of cats. When they were taken out of their cage, Max cuddled up and nestled in Jo's hair. Kippy feistily struggled and tried to get away...a wildcat from the beginning!
Jo was living away from home, and Max went to live with her for almost two years until her allergies got the best of her. Then he came to live with me, right after I lost Kippy.

Kippy on the left and Max on the right

As a kitten, Kippy was my problem catchild. He was a fuzzy little barbarian and didn't relate well to people. No wonder, considering his origins.
When I got him, he had ear mites and for the rest of his life, he had chronic ear infections. Medicating his ears was an ordeal for both of us. The poor little fellow spent a lot of time looking woeful and bedraggled because of greasy fur around the ears. At times his ears were completely bald because the fur would fall out from the medication. I stopped using the medication on him when I finally woke up and realized that this treatment was cruel and wasn't doing the job. I had put my trust in the vets who were treating him, and they failed us. Happily, I switched vet clinics and found an effective, compassionate treatment.
When he was three months old, he scratched my eye quite badly while I was lying on the floor doing my exercises, and I had to stay home from work for four days to let it heal. I used that time petting and loving him and talking soothingly to him in an effort to reassure him that all was well. I'd only had him a week or two at that time, and wasn't sure how to proceed with this "enfant terrible"! But he responded quickly to love, and although he never grew out of the habit of wanting to claw everything in sight, even after his front claws were regrettaably removed (I feel I had no choice), my taming technique seemed to have worked because he turned out to be my loving companion cat.
The first time he discovered the steps at the back entry, he was very young and intrigued with the concept of different heights of floor. It took him awhile to get from the higher step to a lower one, and he didn't go all the way to the landing before I scooped him back up and closed the door. The next time the opportunity presented itself, just one toe touched one step as he shot all the way down--three whole steps! SUPERCAT!!
At that time, I also had Mandy, my black miniature poodle. She was getting up in years, had recently lost her mother and lifelong companion, needed a four-footed friend, and had always loved cats. It took Mandy awhile to convince Kippy that she was "top dog" and he'd better "toe the line." He did - eventually - and so they were buddies. Mandy's little tail would wag when she greeted Kippy after we would arrive home after a walk, and Kippy would run to greet her...and me, I'm sure! Mandy had the funny little habit of giving him pokes with her muzzle...a sort of love nip. At any rate, Kippy enjoyed it.
Both Mandy and Kipp would sleep in my bed with me, Mandy snuggled up close and Kippy lying on the other side of the bed near the foot, usually stretched way out. Most times he'd lie on my chest for love and pets and a few words of encouragement before we went to sleep. I'd rub his funny little nose and ask him, "Where's your lips, Kippy?"
All three of us would lie on the couch together, Kippy on my chest and Mandy by my side. Kipp would lean toward Mandy and ecstatically bury his face in her fur. His purrer didn't work very well, but it would rumble a little.

His face was so expressive! I loved to see his reactions to what was going on around him! Small children were totally foreign to him and the few times Kipp saw them in our house, his fur stood on end, his eyes widened in horror, and he lit out for a good hiding place where he stayed until he was absolutely certain the small alien creatures were gone.
He loved to be talked to. He would come up to me and meow and I would ask him, "Kippy, do you want to have a conversation?" And he'd respond with a meow. We held lengthy conversations this way, his eyes wide and rapt. I haven't had such an attentive listener, before or since!
When Sprocket, Rhonda's black manx, would come to visit, Kippy would get so excited, and would leap on Sprock's back, biting his ear! Sprock was so patient and paternal with him...he never retaliated, but patiently played with and groomed him.

Sprock grooming Kippy

Sprocket would join Kippy and Mandy on the bed at times. Kipp loved stretching out there on his back with his friends, the most contented expression in the world on his face.
I loved arriving home and seeing the silhouette of pointy little kitty ears in the window -- Kipp sitting on the back of the love seat -- and the blacker silhouette of little Mandy by his side.
I had to feed Kipp on his scratching post platform so that Mandy wouldn't eat his food. She was on the "See Food" diet!! :) Before I'd put his food out, I'd say, "Kippy--food??" and he'd race up and leap to the little platform, ready to dig in.
When I'd wipe the table and the cloth would swish out over the edge of the table, a small orange paw would come swiping up at it and a funny wee gremlin face would peek up through the space between table and chair.
Kippy loved to be brushed, and would come running when he'd see me with the brush, but he insisted on having control of the situation. He wouldn't stick around if I tried to hold him on my lap while brushing him. He didn't mind if I worked at his tangles with my fingers while he was lying on me as long as he could leave whenever he wanted to.
During the night when I got up, his quiet presence was such a comfort. When I'd get up in the dark, he'd gently come to me, his beautiful plumy tail brushing softly against my leg like an angel wing. Or I'd wake in the dark and feel him lying on top of me, his soft little paw gently touching my face. Half asleep, I'd pet him and say a few soothing words to him. If I stopped before he was ready, he'd touch my face again...a whisper of a touch.
After I was married, the "zoo" wasn't allowed on the bed except at certain times. Sometimes during the night, when he wasn't supposed to be there, I'd wake up and realize Kipp had snuck onto the bed beside me, so I would pull him close and pet him. He was always good and still.
He wasn't a lap cat. When I'd insist and pick up up for a quick cuddle, he'd tolerate it for about a minute, his muscles tensed, and then when I'd release my hold, he'd be off and flying again. HOWEVER...he willingly came into my arms when he was a kitten and had shots at the vet. After the dirty deed was done, he'd fly into my arms and clung to my neck as if to say, "Save me, Mother!"
The way he darted around the house, fluffy orange and white tail following him proudly like a banner, reminded me of a child pretending to be The Lone Ranger or Superman--I always visualized him in a little cape... "The Cat Crusader!"
Then I got married. When my new husband and I were on our honeymoon, my daughter Rhonda took care of them in their own environment, and they couldn't have received better care anywhere.

I hoped Kippy would remember us when we got back, and that he wouldn't change his funny little habits. I worried needlessly, as when we got back from vacation, Mandy, of course, did her "song and dance of joy" as she always did at such times, and when Kipp would always head for the hills to wait until she calmed down before saying "hi" himself. But this time he came immediately to me in the midst of Mandy's antics with a puzzled, hurt expression on his face and meowed as if saying, "Mom! I really missed you!"
My husband was very taken with him and called him "Pussycat." (Yes, not very original I know, but cute the way it was said!) He'd get down on the floor to pet him or brush Kippy, and Kippy revelled in the attention and caresses, a glorious wide smile on his elfin face.
I gave Kippy a dish of catnip shortly before his death, the first and only time he had that privilege. He laid flat on his belly, stuck his head in the bowl, and wrapped his front paws around the bowl while propelling himself and the bowl across the floor with his hind legs! We howled with laughter! Later, he looked dazed as he was "coming down" as if to say, "Wow! What was THAT?!?".
I miss him sorely. I'll never forget him. I loved having him lay on my chest with his funny little face an inch from mine. I loved rubbing the little dip in his nose, his fuzzy ears. I loved him, and I loved having him love me too.
The guilt for having been irresponsible, for betraying the trust of an innocent little creature such as Kippy by putting him outside at night is something that I still feel acutely after ten years.
Kippy is waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge with Mandy, his little friend whom he loved.