The story of Bibi

Growing up, I always wanted a cat. But my dad hates cats so there went that dream. About 6 or 7 years ago, my mom and I were on the phone one day and she told me about a couple in their Sunday School class that found some kittens. There were 3 that walked up to their door step. If I was interested, she would give me their phone number. At the time, I was living with my friend Carrie at her mom’s house. We had the bottom part as an apartment so it was like we had one - only not. They already had several animals so when I told Carrie about the kittens, we just secretly decided to go look. I mean, they may be ugly and we don’t like them.

We get to the house and the kittens are in the bathroom. One is sound asleep, one is injured and one is running around like crazy. I mean like the definition of the word “frisky”. I looked at him & fell in love. I looked at Carrie and said “I want him” and next thing you know, we’re walking out the door with this tiny fur ball. In the car, we come up with a great story to tell her mom. Here it is: We went to the Summit to eat dinner. When we came back to the car, it was raining (which was true) and we found the kitten underneath the car. He had no tag and was shivering so we took him. The other part of the story is that I would claim the cat. That way, her mom wouldn’t get mad at her for bringing in another animal. So we get home & she falls for the story and I now have a cat. Later, we did confess the truth to her mom.

At first, Bibi’s name was “Rambo Bigglesworth”. Rambo because he was so rambunctious and Bigglesworth for my love of Austin Powers. However, he was the baby of all the pets and somehow the word “Baby” got turned to “Bibi”. I don’t get it either. It is not spelled “BeeBee” or “B.B”. It is spelled different because I do NOT like to follow the norm. If you want me to go left, I go right. Figuratively, of course. There is a restaurant called CiCi’s pizza and that’s where the spelling came from. You better recognize.

I was so obsessed with Bibi. Quite frankly, I still am. The first day, I kept calling Carrie throughout the day to find out what his little two pound behind was doing. It was crazy. Bibi got to a point where he curled up next to me at night. To this day, he gets on the bed and I have to lay a certain way at first or he will meow & sit & stare at me.

Bibi has run away a few times & each time it makes me cry my eyes out. The first time was when Carrie & I lived in an actual apartment across from this ice plant. She called me one day saying he ran away. I scream at her to go look at her & don’t call me until she’s found him. I hang up and cry at my desk. Ten minutes later, she found him in an ice bin across the street. Go figure. The second time, was when I was living with mom & dad. I moved back home because things between Carrie & I weren’t working out. (We have since squashed that beef) Mom calls me because the basement door wasn’t closed good & the garage door was left open. The whole way home, I cry my eyes out. My dad drove all over the neighborhood in the pouring rain looking for him. He finally just wondered home & looked like a drowned rat, five minutes after I got home. The third time was just a few months ago. He somehow got out of our apartment. I am getting my haircut and Chris calls to tell me he can’t find Bibi. I freaked out. For the next three days, I can’t stop crying and wondering around looking for Bibi. I know I looked crazy. A week later, Chris suggest that I put up a “Lost” sign at the apartment mailboxes. I did and sure enough, this woman calls me and says he’s been camped out for days at her house.

I love Bibi. He is a very sweet cat. Whenever he passes, I don’t see myself with another cat because it will have a huge legacy to live up to. I don’t know. I have high expectations for my domesticated animals. I guess I just have good pets. But no matter what, Bibi is number one in my book.