He's a Cheater!

So, I'm scoping out today's mail offerings and what do I see? My new Bust Magazine. Awesome! Oh, look, it's got Beth Ditto on the cover. But wait...who is she holding?! That's right...it's Kipper, my dead (or so I thought!) cat. Caught red-pawed kissing another fat girl. You can see the expression in his eyes. He just KNEW I'd see this. There he is with his new claws -- implants don't you know?! That little cheat!

I've rarely seen any cats that have looked exactly like Kipper. There are lots of Russian Blue's around, but few seem to have that Mountain Dew eye color.

Well, at least the little guy has moved up in the world. Rock on, Kipper!

My Little Whirlwind

Monday afternoon, about 10 minutes after we buried kipper near the garden, a tiny whirlwind started about a foot from his final resting spot and swept across the garden and through the yard. I kid you not! Hopefully, it was a sweet release of his life's energy foretelling of Kipper's future endeavors.

End of the Kipper Era

Ashley Kipper died this morning at around 7:30. He had a really rough weekend and I knew it was time to take him to the vet to get the shot to put him out of his misery. He didn't make it to that shot. Instead, he waited until I woke up this morning. I was able to spend some comforting time with him before his passing. I held him, petted him and told him to "let go". He was close to death at that point, taking only shallow breaths, but was able to move. While I was holding him, he motioned that he wanted to be put on the floor. I put him down, laid on the ground next to him and within two minutes or so he took a violent gasps for air. Finally, he took in one giant breath, released it and let go.

I know there are two camps of people out there. Those who say, "he's just an animal" and those who will probably mourn their own pet's passing or potential passing. To the first camp, he was just an animal. But he was an animal that was with me for over 18 years. A long time to have any living creature in your life. Heck, most marriages don't even last that long. We had our own language and our own history filled with silly Kippy stories. He was there on my good days and bad. He jumped in front of the camera often (if you go through the pix of the week, you'll see him from time to time. Here. or Here. or Here. etc, etc) To those of you who have a cat, give them a little pat-pat, and cat nip today. A little nipper in honor of Kipper.

Kipper

I've had a couple of bad weeks recently primarily 'cuz my little boy (ok, he's a cat) is dying of a growth in his throat that is minimizing his airflow and intake of food. Trying to make the decision to euthanize him or to let him die naturally is very difficult. Very stressful. He's got good days where he's fairly full of energy and bad days where he's really, really quite ill. Lately, the latter is more common. He's lost a ton of weight and often makes quite a bit of noise breathes, especially if he's excited or disturbed by something. The poor little guy is on his last leg. When I was at the vet with him two weeks ago, the vet indicated that I could "put him down now". I really wasn't ready for it, nor do I think Kipper was. Now, I'm not so sure. I'd really like him to die in his sleep and not go through the stress of going to the vet. Probably like most cats, he freaks out when even getting close to the car. Yeah, so anyway, it's a very sad time for me. I've been with the little freak for over 18 years. I got him about a week after my mom died of emphysema. It seems really odd that now he's dying of something somewhat similar. When he's struggling for air, I think of my mom's struggles and think, too, that I can't kill him...I wouldn't have killed my mom just 'cuz she was struggling for a breath. Ugh. Yeah, stress.

"Love to eat those mousies, mousies what I love to eat. Bite their little heads off, nibble on their tiny feet!"

My cat, aka Kipper, is now a killer! He's made it to the ripe old age of 18 without ever killing any mice or any other mammal. The greatest he had ever caught had eight legs. Now he's singing a new tune. I saw a mouse run across our kitchen floor yesterday afternoon. He ran from the old wood stove to the cupboard under the kitchen sink. I suspected we had a little critter around as Kipper was keeping his nose pointed at the kitchen sink and once in a while, he'd crouch and creep around the kitchen, sniffing in the corners. Anyway, when I saw the little grey mouse yesterday, Kipper saw it too, but he was much, much too slow to do it any harm. Or so I thought. We left to go to dinner last night and all was quiet in the house. When we returned, the carnage was evident. There was a large blood splatter around a yellow mouse stomach in the middle of the kitchen floor. My elderly cat had finally done it -- he caught and ate his first kill. He was a proud little cat, he was.