*~Kipling Thornton Wilder~*
1987-2002
 
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Ohhh my, You made me smile with the picture of Your beautiful cat friend...*misty eyed now...*smiles beamishly..* I think sometimes they really are my most favorite people and that once I was either Egyptian or one of them...*s* I adore them so, and understand everything about their feelings, thoughts, wishes, desires.
I laughed the other day when i was coming home from errands at the thought that I actually live to serve my cats....*laughing* That thought had come on the heels of another thought, that I am just so happy when they are happy...*s* I spoil them terribly, and babytalk them and bring them goodies and they get every kind of cat food and treats, including what i've come to call their "Bloody Meat Days", when they get raw beef heart cut into chunks, and liver of all kinds and even kidney. They love it. And You should see how very beautiful they all are.... Just the kittens eat it, but they are voracious in their love of the fresh flesh and crimson elixir...*s*
I know what these seeming simple little creatures can mean to many people. I'm one of them. I had the Majikal Burger Kitty for 19 1/2 years. I know what it means in Your heart to lose a dear, dear non-human friend. Somehow, it is more painful, in different ways, than losing a human friend.
My eldest is Kipling now...the one who came through fire, literally as well as figuratively, with me. He is at least 15 now, has been with me for 14 years, and i adore Him completely.
Kipling chose to come and live with me. I befriended Him as a young feral cat, and he took 2 months to cultivate enough for me to be able to finally pet His head.....I just kept moving his meal closer to me each time, and just sat outside with him, talking, and moving very little.
Eventually He let me touch him, and He entered into this mutual exchange with great rubbing and obvious pleasure. Then , suddenly and without warning, He turned on my hand quite viciously as i stroked His back. I still bear the long scar across the back of my hand to this day.
Anyway, i actually leapt up and went to open my door, my hand bleeding pretty badly, cursing that cat all the way, intending to call the Animal Officers to come and get that danged beast...*chuckles..*...But something stopped me. Kind of a little inner voice saying, "The cat is like that because of people. Why should He pay the ultimate price for whatever abuse and neglect He has suffered?"
I turned and looked back at the cat who was halfway across my yard by that time, and who had also stopped and turned His head in His exit, pausing to look back at me.
He opened His mouth and mewed at me...a little question mark mew.
I guess my heart did a Grinch and melted....*laughs softly*...The next morning, I got a funny feeling...and i walked to the front door and opened it. Lo and behold, there He sat, pretty as You please, at the foot of my heavy front door. (There was no screen door.)
He mewed with His lifted-lip/snarley soft mew, which used to scare me. I thought He was rabid at first. But it's just how Kipling mews. It's very friendly.
Well was I suprised. I smiled down very pleased to see the cat and said, "Well, hi there!" He mewed again...and my other three cats had come up to the door with tails low, sniffing, cautiously curious about the big, wild, matted stranger. He never even looked at them. He just stared at me, and mewed.
I got this strange idea, and I asked Him, "Do You want to come in?" He just looked up at me, and He mewled at me again, His whole heart poured into it. So, i slowly opened the door wide, seeing that none of the cats were acting aggressive at all.
The big, tough, heavily-jowled tomcat looked at the door that was opened wide in an obvious invitation to him to enter and blinked up at me with an actual expression of incredulty. I smiled to him and said, "You can come in..."...and made it obvious that I was inviting Him in (instead of picking Him up physically and bringing Him in, as if I had a right to direct His life).
He got up and walked on in, checking the doorjamb first, and greeting my three cats with a cursory short sniff to each of them in exchange for theirs.
I watched as he made the rounds of the left side of the house, hugging the left wall all through the place. He stopped in the kitchen, all three of my cats following him and sniffing him, staying behind Him though. And they kept looking back at me, kind of confused, but very interested.
Kipling smelled the food bowls, the water dish, the litter box. You could see His mind working.
He hugged the hallway wall and visited each of the two bedrooms' left walls and anything near them. He checked the bathroom, then the living room again, and then, continuing to methodically follow the wall all the way through, came to sit again beside the front door, front paws genteely together, gazing pointedly at me with those pale, pale green spectres in His head...so expressive...verbal, yet silent, an obvious statement that his inspection was complete and he was ready to go back outside.
I asked Him, "Do you want to go back out now?"...and moved to turn the doorknob, watching Him intently, a sweet expression in my voice and a smile...*s*
He miaowed snarly-soft again, with a wide-eyed honesty to me, and I opened the door. He got up, and quietly slipped out at a casual saunter while I told Him how nice it was to visit with Him and to come back anytime at all.
And somehow, i believed that cat understood what I was saying.
The next morning, making coffee, i got that same feeling. I imagine somehow He was calling me, as if he has an inroad into my head. I went to the door, opened it, and sure enough, there He was, at the front door, looking up at me, poised there on His cat tripod of big snowshoe paws, front feet neatly positioned together.
I said, "Well, hello there! Would You like to come back in?"
He mewled so softly it was hard to hear Him, but His meaning was clear in His eyes. I said, "Well, please do, come on in, my friend." I opened the door, He came in...
...and He never left again.
I think He went away to think about it overnight, and He came to the conclusion that He'd prefer regular meals and warm places to sleep and tranquil thoughts instead of the stressful and dark edge to life on the street.
And the fact that i didn't try to force Him counted too, i think.
Kipling is my buddy, and He grew quickly happy and so healthy with love and care, and he shows unspeakable gratitude and undying affection in exchange for my love and great compassion and understanding of Him.
He even took a pitbull on once.
My car was in the shop and it seemed no one was home, and some little kid with a pitbull on a leash apparently saw this, and saw Kipling in his front yard and thought he'd have a little fun. I was making breakfast when suddenly I heard a huge THUMP! against the front door. Well, having had cats all my life, I immediately and instinctively knew what had happened. I had nothing but a kitchen knife handy, and though I quail from thinking of having had to use it on any animal, my cat was more important to me.
I flew to the door, my feet not even touching the ground, and I threw that door wide and looked down, wielding this blade.
There was a white pitbull with its head thrust into the bushes to the close left of the door. The bushes hug the wall beside the front door, and the dog was rooting between the wall and bushes at my bare feet. I didn't even think of being bitten, I just screamed at the dog to GO!, and STOMPED my feet fiercely at it, making myself look VERY big and threatening with widespread arms and a sharp metal tooth death-gripped in my white-knuckled fist.
The dog backed out, and its face was covered with blood! My god, I flew at the dog, screaming, "My CAT!"
But before I could do a thing, Kipling burst out of those bushes in a SHOT, viciously & aggressively attacking the pitbull's face again til it turned tail and ran, with Kipling HOT on that tail!
I SHOUTED for Kipling to stop and come back, fearing the dog might turn on open ground and attack Kipling...I forgot myself in my fear for this cat I had grown so quickly to love so, and bolted after Kipling, hollering and waving my arms all the way!
Kippie had ridden the pitbull's back partway down the street, and the little black kid was standing at the corner of my street and driveway, holding the leash, looking stricken at me.
Kipling dropped off of the dog as it ran screeching with its hindquarters tucked beneath it yelping in pretty terrific pain and fear, I'd wager, and the boy turned and ran after his dog.
I started after this kid and BELLOWED at him, putting the fear of the Lord in him, hopefully*..."Don't you EVER let me see you near my house again, or I WILL call the cops and have you hauled in!" I felt this must be one of the kids who had formed a dog-fighting ring out in the woods in back of the house.
Anyway, Kipling trotted on back to me very casually, not at all upset as if this was all in a day's work, took one deep breath, and sat down, and proceeded to meticulously groom His rumpled, great snowshoe paws with great and satisfied dignity. I just shook my head in a respectful wonder, smiling at Him as I watched Him.
During the arson, Kipling never left my side, even through all the smoke and heat and flames. He just kept miaowwwing long and loud at me with enormous Svengali eyes locked onto my own as i called 911 and all, standing there on the bed beside where the phone sat, in my face the whole time, even when i was hysterical being put on hold even for a moment, he never vacated my side in fear. His eyes were anxious and intently fixed on me the entire time.
The others hid, they were so afraid. Kipling trusted me implicitely I think. He knew I was there for Him always.
Well, after the fire, we moved many places, unable to manage as I (and Kipling too) was in a state of shock for a very long time. After making it to Ohio with the help of my friend Katherine, it took a month or so, but I finally found a 2 bedroom townhouse on the Kentucky/Ohio border where my cats were welcome, but it was not without its own horrors.
The house was very near the banks of the Ohio River, with a frequently-flooded basement from which myriads of huge spiders scrambled up all the time into the main house. We learned very quickly that it also had a nasty flea infestation (that threatened to drive myself and all of the dear felines in my care to madness til Katherine once more came to the rescue and helped us to get the first application of Frontline). There was also some very worn wiring, very dangerous, especially for us, coming from a serious arson situation. The laundry in the basement was basically unusable, flooded and flea-ridden down in that cob-webby, mildewy, soggy room with bad lights because the wiring was dangerous, later condemned by the City Housing inspector who came at my request.
My beloved Kipling died while we were there, unexplainedly. He was well and strong when I had to leave to travel to Massachusetts to settle finances, then back to Kentucky, then on to Texas to rescue my 19 year old son who had been discharged from the Air Force with a fair recurrence of a childhood ailment, and who was languishing far from Virginia, deep in depression, in a cheap motel room, mainly alone and penniless.
I didn't have a choice. I had to go. And I didn't feel that my Kipling would be able to handle such a long trip...*sighs very heavily now*
As I was leaving, Kipling followed me to the door, giving me a questioning maiow, and a long deep gaze from those pale, pale green eyes. I knew he was trying to communicate something, but I couldn't tell what it was. I comforted Him best I could, and told him that I couldn't take Him with me on this long hard trip I was about to make. How could I know it would be the last time I ever saw him alive?
I was gone a week once I left to head to Texas. I could not get back soon enough.The whole last two days, all I could think of was getting back to my Kipling. I never left Him alone this long. We had become so very close, in the aftermath and the slow healing after the arson.
Anytime I had to leave that cat with anyone else for any reason, He would PEE on anything the person who cared for Him owned and used frequently, quite obviously TELLING them that their services would NOT be needed, thank you! He only wanted me.
He never did any of those things when He was with me, no matter where we lived.
I can't help but feel I had known Kipling in some other lifetime, or maybe this one. He could have easily been my own father, come back to help me, to be with me, as He couldn't when He was a man.
Maybe my wonderful stepdad who raised me, and died of alcohol-related complications in 1983.
Maybe my baby son Bryan who died of birth defects in 1981.
In any case, Kipling knew me. And He knew He wanted to be with me.
When He saw me putting packed bags outside the front door to load in my van to go to Texas, He came by the front door and stood there, looking at me with a long, long pale green gaze, and He meowed at me, just like when I first met Him that warm spring day as a tattered old mean Tomcat 14 years before.
I stopped, and looked at Him, knowing, after the experience of the arson and the knowledge of their ability to think deeply and communicate their questions, and I tried to listen to Him.
I told Him I couldn't take Him. That it would be too long, too hard a trip for Him at His age. I petted His silky sweet head and apologized for this, and told Him I'd be back as quickly as I could, that the lady from across the street was going to be coming over to feed them, and water them and clean the litter boxes til I could get back. He just looked so deeply into my eyes, and meowed. I was troubled. But, I had to go.
When I returned, it was midnight on a Sunday into Monday. I pulled up, cut the engine, and hurriedly gathered a few things to take in with me. I had been unable to think of anything else at that point but getting back to Kipling, though I also have 10 other lovely beloved cats now.
I came in, and put the bags inside the door, and the funk rushed out and hit me square in the face. The other cats were in swarm mode, anxiously looking at the door, darting away, not knowing what was going on. I couldn't believe the stench!
I shut the door behind me and noted the full dishes, thinking the food was rank cause the woman who it became very clear had been very lax in her attention to the cats, and had only visited every couple of days, had not changed it for several days. The water pots I'd left so full were all down to sludge. She had done nothing with them. The litter boxes were over-flowing. I cursed her under my breath as I spoke lovingly to my cats, petting them, soothing them, all the while getting rid of the food and filling the water pots, opening windows and calling Kipling every minute or so, wondering where He was.
He never came to greet me. He is always so attentive, I became slowly aware that something was very amiss. I finally checked everywhere but the very back bedroom where He almost never went. It was hot, not well-ventilated, and pretty bare of anything but boxes.
I turned on the light, and a shape in the far left corner caught my eye. I looked over, and saw Him.
I knew immediately that Kipling was dead.
I remember I only exclaimed, "Oh.....Kipling...Kipling...." I went to Him quickly, and placed my palm along His back where He lay on His tummy, His paws neatly pressed together under His out-stretched chin, His eyes sunken, closed. His body was rigid under my hand, and a small dried pool of pinkish fluid lay beneath them, dark in the carpet.
Oh. My heart. My heart...*softly, tears welling*
I am sorry....*softly*....I cannot continue.
I will finish the update later.
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(Just click on the graphic and it will take you to Paypal, to our little Outer Bohemia account just set up (me) and the Five Angels Arson Fallout Relief fund, should you choose to or be able to help even a little. Please dont feel badly if you cannot. Prayers to your higher power & positive thoughts will also be very deeply appreciated and needed.)
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