pas de chat
c'est pas l'histoire d'un jour|
Name: Tiger
Nicknames: Tigey, Tigou, Ger Breed: American Shorthair Pattern: Tabby Loved: 1986-2002 |
|
I still remember the first day we got Tiger. He was a tiny kitten, just old enough to eat solid food. He had green eyes, a distinctly pleasant voice and an orange coat with white markings that I soon memorized. The first thing he did was torpedo across our living room and down to the basement, which probably seemed like a quiet and safe dark place. We named him after a cat in our schoolbooks and coincidentally the character in the book was friendly with dogs - just like Tiger turned out to be.
Tiger was the perfect example of a content and social cat that was raised in a loving home. Although I was allergic to cats, I couldn't help but pet him. Eventually I began to only use brushes because I would get sick. The limited amount of attention meant that he was never spoiled, making him a well tempered cat. Still, we often caught him stealing snacks from another cat's bowl down the street!
Because Tiger was so affectionate, it took a few years to get him to stop following us to school or work. To this day, I still have dreams of him being in places he shouldn't because I always worried about accidents happening to him. Thankfully, he never strayed beyond our quiet residential street.
Everyone on our street, even the mailmen would talk to him. He always seemed to know when someone was feeling hurt or sick, because he'd sit by them. He also seemed to know when anyone was coming home, long before we were there. Even now, whenever a cat runs towards me as I walk into our street, my first instinct is that it's Tiger coming to greet me.
Like most cats nearing the end of their life, Tiger chose to spend his final days trying to hide in our backyard or basement. Only then I remembered that these were the same places he first saw and felt safe in at our house. Everyone on our street still remembers him well and often we talk about how much joy he brought into our lives.
