Tippy, Chapter Two
By Jim Thompson
HCP columnist
It was early August 1968. Pete and I were walking back from the briar patch after an unsuccessful hunt.
Pete was thoughtful, and said lowly, “Tippy, there is something going on I think you need to know about.”
“What’s that?”
Pete continued, “I think the Thompsons are going to leave the farm.”
“Where are they going?”
“To a city called Cincinnati.”
“What will happen to us?!”
“Let’s not worry about that. Maybe they will take us with them,” Pete said as calmly as he could.
“Will there be rabbits? I don’t know anything about cities!”
I had a sleepless night. The next morning, Pete said, “I know how to open the back door to the kitchen. I will see if I can go in and learning anything.” Pete had the ability to somewhat understand humans.
We didn’t talk anymore about the situation that day or the next. I think Pete and I both hoped it would just go away.
Why do humans move? We don’t understand.
On the third day, Pete came to me, “It’s worse than I thought.”
“How can that be? What you have described is awful.”
“Well, from what I understand,” Pete went on, “I am going with the Thompsons and will LIVE IN THE BASEMENT!”
“And me?”
“You are going to a farm near Cynthiana.”
“Where is that?”
“A ways east of here,” Pete replied dejectedly.
Pete and I spent the rest of August and the first part of September furiously chasing rabbits and doing everything we could together. It was as if the more we did together, the chance of the awful things happening would dimmish.
Jim Thompson, formerly of Marshall, is a graduate of Hillsboro High School and the University of Cincinnati. He resides in Duluth, Ga. and is a columnist for The Highland County Press.