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Robert Kennedy, a taxidermist in Hillsborough, restores a stuffed Sumatran tiger owned by Robert F. Kennedy Jr. It had been a gift from the Indonesian government to his father, then-Attorney General Robert Kennedy, in the early 1960s.

(Andrew Miller/For The Star-Ledger )

When most dads return from a business trip, their kids are lucky to get a souvenir T-shirt or something from the airport gift shop.

When Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s dad returned from a diplomatic trip to Indonesia in the early ’60s, he brought back a stuffed Sumatran tiger — shot by President Sukarno himself and given to the then-attorney general.

Fifty or so years later, the tiger has been hanging out in Hillsborough under the restorative care of a taxidermist coincidentally named Robert Kennedy.

(He and Kennedy Jr. are used to encountering others who share their name, the taxidermist said, so their introduction consisted of both men reaching out to shake hands and announcing "Robert Kennedy.")

RFK’s son explained that as a child, he’d initially requested something very different when he heard his father was headed to Indonesia: a Komodo dragon, the world’s largest lizard.

The attorney general had been asked by his brother, President John Kennedy, to help mediate a territorial spat between the Dutch and Indonesians that was threatening to turn into a war.

At the time, the United States feared that siding with the colonial Dutch would push Indonesia into the arms of the U.S.S.R., creating a communist puppet state in Southeast Asia. A settlement was negotiated by the United States that ultimately favored Indonesia.

A grateful Sukarno sent the elder Robert Kennedy two Komodo dragon lizards — live, not stuffed — for his son.

"But they were too big for us to keep at home," recalled Robert Kennedy Jr., who was 9 or 10 at the time. "They had to go to the zoo, because it turns out they eat things. They’re too dangerous."

The Sumatran tiger was briefly displayed in Robert Kennedy’s office in the Department of Justice, his son said. When the lizards had to be shipped off to the zoo, "I think my father gave me the tiger as a consolation," he said. The tiger then resided at Hickory Hill, the 13-bedroom Kennedy house in McLean, Va.

Considered his family’s "nature child," he kept the tiger in his room, where a parade of Kennedy siblings (there were 11 kids) and friends clambered all over it.

When the stuffed Sumatran tiger came to Robert Kennedy's taxidermy shop this winter, , its fur was worn in spots, a few teeth were missing and its tail had been broken off.

Kennedy Jr., 59, an environmental lawyer, said he always displayed the tiger wherever he lived, with the exception of his boarding school and college years.

The Sumatran tiger is now endangered, its population having dwindled to 400 to 600. It is one of the smallest tigers — yet can weigh up to 300 pounds.

By the time the tiger arrived at the taxidermist’s shop this past winter, its fur was worn in spots, a few teeth were missing and its tail had been broken off. Originally stuffed with straw, the tiger’s hindquarters had sagged under the weight of all those children over the years. Kennedy family dogs had chewed at the front paws as well.

Kennedy-the-owner had tried once before to have the specimen restored, but learned the hard way that not all taxidermists can do restorations. That first attempt didn’t accomplish much.

"Restoration is a speciality. It’s almost like restoring a piece of art in a museum," he said. "I’d heard Robert Kennedy was an extraordinary taxidermist who did extraordinary work."

Kennedy-the-taxidermist has re-dyed sections of the fur, which he said had faded unevenly in the sunlight, much like a section of carpet would if exposed to the sun.

He used replica lynx claws to replace the ones that were missing, and bristles from a scrub brush he bought at Lowe’s for new whiskers. The tiger still had its real skull; modern taxidermy now favors a carved Styrofoam skull that is lighter and ultimately more durable.

Kennedy-the-taxidermist, 52, began taxidermy as a 14-year-old when his buddy came over one day and showed him a pamphlet about how to stuff fish. He was at the age when that sounded like fun.

He proved to be good at it, even though his hobby made him an oddity in his family: "Nobody in my family does this, or hunts or fishes," he said. Pretty soon he had so many jobs he realized his hobby had quietly become a career.

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His small workshop is filled with stuffed fish, elk, boar and wild turkey in flight. Yet nothing grabs the attention more than the visiting tiger, whose ferocious, mid-snarl expression can startle customers.

When he completes the restoration, he said, he’ll suggest to the other Kennedy that the tiger be displayed on a waist-high stand — away from roughhousing children and hungry dogs.

There are more unusual projects waiting for his attention. He’s already working on a life-size mounted cow, and has to pick up and restore an 8-foot sailfish.

"When one big thing goes, there’s always another big thing to take its place," he said.