K is for. . .

K is for my Kipper cat. However, this post won't be a "oooohh she's the sweetest kitty in the whole world post." (Though, of course she is).

This a story of how weird the animal-human link can be.

I first knew about Kip in 1980. This was 12 years before she physically entered my life.

In 1980, I was the human for the Gray and Orange cats. However, one night I dreamt about a black and white cat with a pushed-in face. When I woke up, I knew I had dreamt about my next cat.

The years went on and by 1992, I was cat-less. Also, the hubster (who wasn't the hubster yet) and I were beginning our relationship. At the time, he lived in an apartment building in Brooklyn that had a backyard courtyard.

Many feral cats lived in that courtyard.

Also living in the building was a woman the hubster worked with. She told the hubster about a little feral cat who would climb the fire escape and look in her window. She had cats and couldn't take in another one, but she made a nest for the cat in a large flower pot in the courtyard and she would feed her. She also looked out for the little cat and she noticed that the little cat kept herself apart from the other feral cats.

When hubster told me the story of the little cat looking in his friend's window, my heart just ached. Here was a sweet, lonely cat longing for a warm, safe home.

Well, you know where this story is going.

We went to Brooklyn and rescued the little cat. She was sitting like a princess on top of a blanket in the large flower pot. When I first saw her, I said, "That can't be her!"

It was.

There she was--my black and white cat with the pushed-in face.