Today's post is written by Tierney:
I don't remember how old I was when we got Chip, but I remember I did NOT want her. I had Licorice, my lovely black kitten, and I wanted a white kitten to go with him. We were sitting cross-legged in the cat room of Petsmart, and they must have been a little less strict with what cats got to come out to play because there were kittens everywhere! I had my white kitty in my lap. I had already named him, and I knew we were meant to be. (I don't remember the name I gave him, just that I loved him and he was already mine.)Taylor had another kitten on his lap. It was calico, and while it looked cool, it was not my dream white kitty. I don't remember why Mom picked Taylor's kitten over my kitten--but I remember feeling outraged and sad the entire drive home. Taylor didn't even LIKE cats--why would HE get to pick out MY kitten. (Okay, it was OUR kitten, but still...)
We named the cat Chip, after the character Major Chip Hazard from Small Soldiers. (It's a good movie--look it up.) Later, we found out Chip was actually a girl cat. Go figure. At least her name fits in well with the Mexican food theme all our pets live by.
It wasn't until years later that Chip and I really bonded--after Licorice, my beloved black kitty, died of cancer. Until then, Chip was always a background cat. He didn't really like to snuggle; he was kind of cranky. Licorice, with all her purring, and licking, and curling up in your lap--she obviously got all the love.
Then, when Licorice died, we could tell how sad Chip was. I was sad about losing one cat, so I transferred all my love onto Chip. Chip transformed from a sullen, aloof cat to my wittle baby. He slept with me every night (where Licorice used to sleep), and his favorite spot was right on top of my chest so I couldn't breathe. (He's kind of chubby, but he's cute, so it's okay. I wish that was true for women. "She's chubby, but she's really cute, so it's fine.)
I would sing songs to Chip, and carry him like a baby, and even use his giant belly as a pillow. (Yes, that cat let me use him as a pillow. It was magical, and I can't believe my head is not scratched to pieces from that experience.) He would always wait for me to come home by sitting at the top of the stairs. At dinner time, he would have his own seat at the table (next to me), and I would feed him pieces of my dinner by putting it on the place mat in front of him. He would reach his paw out, pick it up, and eat it daintily. Chip is always hungry, and in the manner of most cats, acts like he is starving every minute of the day.
One sad day, it came time for me to grow up and live in a house of my own--a house that didn't allow for lovely calico kitties. And so, Chip had to stay where he was--growing old and cantankerous due to two very rambunctious dogs. I still visit Chip from time-to-time, and I call him with his special Chip song, and he comes running out from wherever he was hiding at the time. Maybe one day, Chip can escape the dog majority and come live out the rest of his days with me.
I love you, Chip!
