Tiger J. Puss (1994-2008)

We lost Tiger today, who first came to live with us in the house on McCoy Drive some thirteen years ago. He has been a vital part of our lives, moving with us to Atlanta years ago, to the Baxter Drive house upon our return to Jackson, and then again to the condo on Wayneland Drive.

Tiger lived a good life. He loved naps in the sunshine, rowdy late-night sessions with favorite toys, and treats — the smellier, the better. Like most cats, Tiger had a sixth sense about certain things, hiding long before we would pull the dreaded cat carrier out of the closet.

When Clyde and I would come back after a week or two in foreign lands, Tiger would greet us, eager for petting. No amount of attention, though, would be enough to deter his favorite “welcome home” ritual: waiting for us to fall asleep, poking his snout under our bedroom door, and yowling at the top of his lungs in the middle of the night.

Since we adopted Tiger and his sister, Lilly, they have been constant companions — two parts of a matched set. They sleep curled up in the same basket; they both come running to greet us whenever we come home. (I know. That’s pretty dog-like behavior for a cat. But Lilly even plays fetch, so go figure.)

As Tiger’s kidney failure progressed, Lilly was visibly concerned, taking special care to keep him comfortable and groomed. At least once an hour, she would check in on him, stopping by the bed to offer kisses. But as things took a turn for the worse, Lilly retreated, confused and afraid. Today, she is wandering the house, looking for Tiger, and I have no way to tell her that Tiger won’t be coming home.

Tiger was more friendly than fearful … more concerned with comfort than with style … more likely to be eating treats than sticking to his diet of dry, boring, low-calorie chow. We’d all do well, I think, to follow his example.

Tiger was a good and faithful friend for thirteen years, and we’ll miss him every day for years to come.