[Catrancher99]

A Tribute to MISTER TIPS: 7 April 1993 - 28 June 2006
Over the years I've had many cats who've died, disappeared or been euthanized and I've loved them all (Zappa, Puck, Fuzzy Buzzard, Mehitabel, Jinxy - of whom more later - for example). But they all were around for short periods of time. Mister Tips, besides being the best friend I've ever had, graced me with his love for so long it's hard to think he wasn't with me from my birth. He was also a link with my late wife, Tammy. Tammy's best friend was Katja, who's sister, Faith, died the same summer as Tammy (1987). Our common grief made Katja and I very good friends up to today, though she still lives in Seattle. After Tammy died I was almost shattered, and resolved to never be close to anyone again, it hurt so much to lose some one I loved so much. I became bitter and angry and self-destructive (sorry, no sordid details). Then one day Katja came by with a large jacket on with a tiny face with huge eyes staring out. At first, I thought it wouldn't be long before this cat disappeared from my life, and I wasn't going to get attached to it. In a couple of days, I was hooked, though. This tiny creature slept on my pillow draped across my hair, followed me constantly, loved to play tag, and couldn't think of a better place to fall asleep than in my arms while I read or watched TV. I fell in love with the little fuzzball and we made a deal with the spiritual powers that be. I promised to give him all the love and the best care I could and to never give him up, euthanize him (unless absolutely neccessary), or otherwise disregard him as anything less than my child if he'd promise to be around for many years. I literally wouldn't trade him for the world. The bargain was sealed, and we were together for just over 13 years. In all likelihood Mister Tips kept me from falling into a spiral of doom. I believe in Karma, reincarnation, and that living things more advanced than viruses have souls, and that Mister Tips waits for me in the Summer Fields, maybe with Tammy, although they never met in life. His funeral was almost Egyptian, what with the toys, catnip, charms, incense, photos and texts (on actual parchment yet) I wrote to and about him that he was buried with. He was regal, after all, a magnificent specimen of Norwegian Forest Cat heritage, big, fluffy, gentle, smart, and wise. He tolerated raising two vicious little kittens (Jinxy and Stormy), he loved snow, he'd nip the tip of my nose sometimes when he'd go into ecstasy having his temples massaged, he learned to come to me when he'd get poop stuck in his shaggy butt fur so I could snip it out for him, and he actually learned to say "No" very clearly when he didn't want to come in the house. Many times he showed proof that cats do indeed think. For example, when he was older and showing signs of joint pain I built a set of 3 steps so he could get up on the bed without having to make one big leap. At first he ignored them, then one night as he was about to jump up he stopped in mid-crouch, hesitated a couple of seconds, went around to the other side of the bed and used the steps from then on. No "dumb animal," as some people consider dogs and cats to be, would connect the dots like that. When he got sick, despite blood tests, x-rays and exploratory surgery and biopsies, the vet never did figure out what was wrong with Mister Tips, although it was discovered that his left kidney had never fully developed, his liver was smaller than normal and his heart was slightly misshapen. I guess his genetics were a bit off, and he was destined for a lifespan less than a cat can expect when it's well cared-for these days. Regardless of too-short a time together, those years are much treasured by me, for he filled my life with love that would've been missed without his presence. To me, he was the King Of Cats.

"Now cracks a noble heart.
Good night sweet prince;
and flights of angels sing thee
to thy rest."
William Shakespeare