losing a good friend

This weekend we lost our cat, Tiger, whom we'd had for 14 years.  He was our daughter's birthday present when she was just 6 years old.  The woman we got him from said he was the best of the litter because he was patient and playful and very easy to get along with;  truer words were never spoken about him.

Tiger was the most personable cat we'd ever known.  He would seek you out wherever you were, inside or outside, just to hang around you.   He meowed enough to carry on a full length conversation when he really had something to say, and he finally learned to tolerate our large, energetic, furry golden retriever who, despite seeing the cat every day, seemed to have a continual fascination that we had this feline in our home.  Tiger was always worth a doggy sniff and inspection to make sure things were as they should be.

When you have an animal living with you for fourteen years and then they are gone, it's really hard not to look for them around every corner, imagine that you see them in their favorite sleeping spot, or hear a meow when the house is quiet.  He was a wonderful presence in our family's life and loved by everyone.  He seemed to outlive his nine lives and I'm sure stretched it to eleven or twelve.  He was failing, healthwise, this past year, but still had the strength to catch mice and deposit them at our back door on his favorite mat, bring me the occasional dead bird, and jump at the front door continually until he had jumped with enough force to successfully open the heavy latch at 5:30 in the morning when he felt it was time to come in for breakfast. 

We miss you, Tiger.  We always will.  Thanks for being a peaceful presence with us these past years.  It was a great run.