Tiggery-Tig – ND #135

Tigger – Photo: S. Weikel

Tiggery-Tig

This handsome boy, also known as Tiggety-Tig, Tigster, Tig-Tig, Tigeroons, and of course, the ever classic if elegant in its simplicity, “Tigger,” succumbed this morning to a combination of old age and climate intolerance.

Losing Tigger is a shock to my system. Yes, he’d been throwing up fairly frequently over the past few weeks. But between the heat and his thick, thick fur, it was not uncommon for him to suffer from fur-dyspepsia. Summers were always a challenge for him.

While he was technically a shorthair, Tigger had an incredibly luxurious and thick undercoat that rendered petting him addictive and incredibly soothing to this human’s body, mind, and soul. As if his softness weren’t enough, his personality was kind, patient, and unconditionally loving. And he extended those qualities to both two and four-legged family members. Old dogs, puppies, kittens, cats (even surly and paranoid ones – looking at you, Cletus and Precious), it didn’t matter. Tigger made room in his heart for all of us.

Profile of a Love – Photo: S. Weikel

Balm to My Soul

That cat was a balm to my soul. He cuddled with me every night. Even if it was hot out, he would trot up the stairs, sensing when I was about to turn out my light. He’d talk to me with a couple mrrrows and then take his place at my side, my arm sliding along his tummy between both his back and front paws so that my fingers could massage his chin and neck. For those of you with cats, you know that’s a position most cats would balk at and kick viciously at with their back legs. Not Tig.

If he heard me call his name (or any of the derivations listed above), he’d come running. Maybe over the past year or two his pace might’ve slowed a wee bit, but he would still show up without fail in response to my call.

When I realized I was going to write about him tonight, I did a search of my blog posts and discovered I’d written about him by name at least 45 times. Reading some of those posts brought back a flood of memories and an appreciation of how profoundly my life is influenced and made inordinately better by the presence of my familiars.

Tigger and Baby Pacha – Photo: S. Weikel

A Few Favorites

I picked out a few of my favorite Tigger stories and have linked them in this post. The best one is probably the one called Names Matter, which explains why he seemingly loved me so deeply. The relief he felt was probably a lot like many of us feel when we’re finally seen, known, and called by our true name.

The photo below is the last one I took of him. It was just yesterday that he draped himself next to my keyboard. I had a sense that he was leaving me; I can’t even say why.

He didn’t sleep with me last night, an anomaly that sent me looking for him as soon as I woke up. I found him curled up in a place not usual for him, and he let out a plaintive cry. I called our vet’s office (and they answered before they were even open) and was able to make an appointment for him at 11:00. But when it came time to go, I knew the moment I picked him up that he was leaving me; that making him endure a car ride in the unbearable heat would only pollute his last snippet of time with us. So I canceled the appointment and, instead, held him in my lap, enveloped in Sacred Space, until he took his last breath at 11:39 a.m.

He was such a good boy. Love you, Tiggery.

(T+135)