In Honour of Tipper …

In Honour of Tipper …

Tipper & Rusty

 

 

 

 

This has been a very sad week for me, as my beloved and longtime furry companion, Tipper, passed away late last Monday evening, August 2/21.  God truly blessed me with this dear black cat with the white ball of fur on the tip of his tail, and the most beautiful, huge Jade eyes I have ever seen. He was kind, loving, and loyal and will forever remain in my heart.

I wish to thank each of you who so kindly remembered Tipper in your thoughts, through your uplifing words and sentiments, and for the kind messages, emails, facechats, and phone calls. Please know how much I truly appreciate each and every one.

In honour of my darling Tipper, I’d like to share the story I wrote for him in 2010 that was published in my first children’s collection, Young Minds. This collection is no longer in print, but anyone wishing a complimentary PDF need only to ask.

Tipper Saves a Mouse

There once was a black cat named Tipper, who had huge, green eyes and looked very much like any black cat except for the end of his long, spindly tail, for at the very tip was a ball of snow-white fur. It could not be missed, regardless of where he went for the white tip could be seen giving his location away, even when he tried to hide it. He hated this, but there was nothing he could do about it; besides, it set him apart from his many friends.

Tipper lived in a huge yellow house with six other cats on a busy street. They all knew each other well,  a few had even been kittens together. They spent sunny days roaming the backyard in hopes of finding a mouse or two. Some days they hoped to climb trees with the playful squirrels that lived high above. On rainy days a few of them would play with empty thread spools, while others batted a ball of yarn around the floor, and when the owner of the house wasn’t looking, they jumped upon a table by the front window, the results of which often sent a pot of flowers crashing to the floor.

Tipper had lived in this house a long time, and he knew how to stay out of trouble, but sometimes he would find himself in the middle of a race to see who could jump the highest. It was on such an occasion, at the height of a wild race, when Tipper’s best friend, Tom-Stripe, leaped to the top of the kitchen cupboard and dared his friend to follow. The cupboard top was cluttered with dishes and bottles, and in one messy corner was an opened bag of cat food.

Tipper told his friend that it would not be wise to go near it, but Tom-Stripe liked to get into mischief and carefully found his way through the clutter. Tipper sat on the floor, watching every move his friend made knowing full well it would only be a matter of time before something terrible happened. Tom-Stripe picked his way closer to the open bag, but before he could look inside, it fell over, and a little grey mouse with a black dot on its head jumped out!

The frightened mouse tore across the cupboard top not caring those things might scatter, for he knew Tom-Stripe was after him and he must find shelter. The mouse jumped to the floor in a desperate attempt to escape his attacker, but as he landed, he found himself smack dab in front of Tipper!

“Oh please, kind Sir, don’t eat me!” begged the trembling mouse. “I did not mean to frighten anyone! I was only snacking on the tasty morsels in the bag … I didn’t eat many … Really, I didn’t!”

Tipper had seen this mouse before and thought him a gentle little fellow. Of all the mice he encountered on his travels this was the politist one he ever met, but he really didn’t know what to think about the problem at hand, and he didn’t have time to think of anything because Tom-Stripe had jumped to the floor. The inquisitive cat took a bold step toward the quivering mouse, smacking his lips as he inched closer.

The little mouse thought his end had come, when Tipper quickly snatched him by the tail and bolted for the door, pushing through a tear in the screen as he went.

“Wait a minute!” declared Tom-Stripe, looking about in disbelief at what he’d seen.

Tipper knew he had to move fast for his friend could run faster than he could and would surely catch up if he slowed down. He wasn’t sure where to go, but it had to be a safe place. He suddenly remembered a basement window that faced the street which had been open a crack the last time he’d passed it. He figured he could push through and hide behind some boxes until Tom-Stripe tired of the chase, which he often did. He ran towards it, all the while holding the skinny tail gently by his teeth. He knew if he bit too hard it would hurt the little fellow, or he might even bite it off. Oh, no, thought Tipper, I couldn’t even think of doing that!  That was something he could never do, for secretly Tipper liked mice, and the thought of bringing harm to any one of them brought sadness to his heart. So far, he had managed to keep it a secret, for it was something he could not be let known. After all, he was a cat, and cats were supposed to chase mice. All his friends did, but he was not like his friends, so his secret was never known.

Tipper grew closer to the window, but he also knew Tom-Stripe was on the move for he had seen him push through the screen mere seconds after he’d slipped through, ripping it completely apart as he barreled through. This is going to be a close one, thought Tipper. But just as he was about to dive through the window, he noticed it shut.

“Eeeeeeeeeeek!” screeched the frightened mouse as he thrashed about.

Tipper stopped briefly, silently wishing the mouse would be quiet and not cause attention. What to do, what to do. Suddenly, he took off in another direction when he heard Tom-Stripe meowing from the direction he just came from. He had to find another hiding place before it was too late. As he trotted along, scanning the area, his huge green eyes were suddenly drawn to a garbage can lying on its side by the driveway. He thought to himself that it just might work — that is if he kept his tail low to the ground while he approached the can.

With caution, Tipper dove head-long into the opened top, trying to be as quiet as he could and not arouse added interest from his friend. The mouse squirmed beneath Tipper’s neck, trying his best to break free and constantly complaining about everything that was happening.

“Oh, will this torture never end?”

“You must be quiet if I’m to keep you safe,” answered Tipper, trying his best to hang onto the quivering tail as he spoke. “Now shush!”

They could hear movement that sounded to be coming from the other side of the long driveway. It had to be Tom-Stripe. Who else could it possibly be? Tipper crouched as low as he could, and held his position within the garbage can as his huge eyes studied the opening. But the little mouse would not be still no matter how much Tipper insisted and he soon broke free, scampering with all his might towards the opening!

“Oooooh noooooo,” moaned Tipper as he crept closer to the mouth of the can.

He peered out, hoping with all his might the little mouse had been successful, for he couldn’t stand the thought of what might happen if his great escape failed, but to Tipper’s surprise, the mouse had been successful! There was not one sign of him to be seen. Tipper thought about this, wondering where Tom-Stripe had gotten to, but he also knew how quickly his friend tired of things when he didn’t get his way.

This thought brought Tipper relief, for not only did he know the little mouse had successfully gotten away, but it also made him smile in knowing he had helped. As he looked towards the house, he noticed the man who lived there standing by the kitchen door, doing something with the screen. On closer inspection, Tipper saw Tom-Stripe inside, curled up on the carpet. Tipper gently laughed because he knew how much his friend liked to tell stories about his wild adventures, but he always forgot to mention that it was Tipper who really had the adventure. This time was no different, for it was Tipper who saved the day, and along with it he saved a mouse.

Rusty Blackwood

Copyright © 2010

All Rights Reserved by Author

 

 

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