My Friend Kiko (Last Installment in This Series)

Kiko chose my house. He had visited my neighbor’s home and had considered living there, but, ultimately, he preferred my place. On a spectacular spring morning, I held open the kitchen door while the orange and white cat padded confidently inside.

Kiko, Who Remained a Kitten Throughout a Long Life

Kiko was grown but still kittenish. He had a positive outlook toward everything, except moving, as I later discovered. He felt reassured that he had made the right decision in selecting me as his “owner.” He played and purred, purred and played, all day long, and, in the evenings, he snuggled in my lap for a snooze while I watched the news.

Whenever he stood by the kitchen door, I let him out. Whenever he wanted back in, he waited patiently on the small porch beyond the doorway until I chanced to see him there.

Kiko was a fierce hunter of snakes. Even though he was a small cat, he scaled my tall privacy fence each day and prowled the neighborhood searching for garter snakes. Whenever he caught one, he brought it back to my fenced yard. With the dead snake drooping from his mouth, he shinnied and clawed his way to the top of the boards. Then he always confronted a problem. As he squeezed through the gap between the arrow-shaped tops of two boards and sprang to the ground, the snake caught in the gap and slipped from his jaws. He looked up at his prize, pondered ways to retrieve it, stared to one side in puzzlement, and shook his head. Forgetting the loss of the snake, he skipped merrily onto the porch and tarried there. When I graciously opened the door and he strode into my house, I checked the fence, and—sure enough!—a deceased serpent festooned it! My duty was to dispose of the reptile before the neighbors saw it and wondered why I had draped it over the top of my fence.

Kiko was easy to care for and great fun! In return, he gave his fullest affection. How many times when I was sad did he spring to my lap and cheer me? How many days when I was busy did he startle me by skittering across the hardwood floor in a wild dash that made me laugh? He was my steadfast companion and friend.

My Oil Pastel Drawing of Kiko in a Wicker Chair

When I moved to a different house far away, Kiko reacted in a manner that I could never have predicted. When I set him on the floor of our new home, he trembled with fear. I turned to other tasks. I thought that he simply needed time to explore and to adjust on his own. After an hour or two, I could not find him.

I searched high and low, but there was no sign of Kiko. That night, I could hardly sleep. I racked my brain trying to think of a place where he could be hiding.

The next morning, I bent over the washing machine to check the connections and noticed a hole through the underside of the cabinets above the dryer. Aha! I opened the doors, and there was Kiko curled into a small ball inside the cabinet! When I removed him, he purred.

After spending his first night in a cabinet above the dryer, Kiko accepted his new home and never returned to the hiding place. He was his happy-go-lucky self again.

The only difference of opinion that he and I ever had was over whether he should be given a bath. I tried … once! My scratches healed after about a week.

Kiko lived a long life. Toward the end, his kidneys began to fail. I delayed euthanasia for as long as I felt I could in good conscience, but the end had to come. I cried a lot when I buried Kiko with his favorite toys.