Pip is about 5 and 1/2 months old and he came to me in really bad shape. It was still quite cold when my husband and I arrived back at our apartment. As we got out of the car the maintenance super roared up in his truck, leaped out and yelled "STAY HERE" Grabbing his walkie-talkie I heard him say "SHE'S here, HURRY!"

Next thing I know half the staff is running up with a cardboard box. When they shove it in my arms I find a tiny kitten inside. Small enough to sit in the palm of your hand, ice cold, filthy and completely limp, that was the first time I saw the Pip monster.

I rushed him inside and eye-droppered hot tea with tons of sugar. As he revived a little I checked and of course I was out of KMR. Shoving him and the bottle of sugar solution in my shirt I drove up to Petsmart. Ever tried to shop with a dirty limp kitten in your shirt? Two days of shirt and sugar and KMR he could at last maintain his body temp. Poor little mite was no more than 4 weeks old. The super told me that he'd been found trapped inside an exterior wall for at least 4 days. Talk about being on the ragged edge of death.

It's more than 4 months later and there have been some changes made. From a tiny filth covered terrified skeleton he's now 5 lbs of spotless caped silver tabby with a tiny white tip on the end of his tail. Speaking of tail, I measured it and his tail is over 14 inches long! If this beast grows up to fit his tail he's gonna be huge.

He got the nick name "Kitten From Hell" when he started chasing all the other cats in my house. He's DEFINITELY not a shy little mite any more. Now he's more like a jet powered targeting missile. Pixle, who was the baby and used to be the chief pest, has taken to hiding on top of the curio cabinet. As I tell her, "Payback's a bitch". When will I get a normal animal?

Copyright © Kit Morrandd
August 29, 1998