Tiger, four years later.

The handsome feline pictured above is Tiger.  He was my first adopted animal from the Tulsa SPCA.  He has been gone for 4 years next month, and even with that much time gone by I still miss him real bad.  The year he passed was a tumultous one for me at best, and though it's subjective to say that he saved his final months on earth to make sure his master had fully recovered, he was faithful and loving to the very end.

Oddly enough the two of us came together in something that was born out of tragedy.  Shortly after my stillborn daughter was born, my sister suggested that I adopt a cat to help with my wife's high blood pressure, which has been suspected in the death of the baby.  Which meant that he was adopted for Krista and not necessarily for me. We went to Eastland Mall, where the Tulsa SPCA had a store, I picked him out and adopted him. 

Thus began 12 years of unconditional love from him that is hard to describe.  He was not a cat that was aggressive, or mean, or unpredictable.  He lived with me through the divorce, through the death of my Dad, relocation to a town 45 miles north of here when I thought I might get married again, and back home.  He did it without complaint and at the end of the day he was still good old Tiger.

Good old Tiger...

He mentored another cat that was adopted when I was married, Boomhower or "Boomie", and he lives on as his legacy.  Once a wilder, somewhat out-of-control kitten from a large litter, he and Tiger quickly bonded and became brothers, though unrelated by blood.  While Boomie is most definitely his own cat, much of his tolerance and laid back personality is the trademark of Tiger, no question about that.

It funny how you assign human qualities to your pets.  Tiger was truly a "furry son" to me.  He knew when I'd come home from work when I lived on my own, would converse with me with chirpy meows as I moved about the apartment, for example.  And his purr was legendary.  His purr was not unlike a small two-stroke motor, and he REALLY would get into his purr.  So much so that if he sat on your lap and you rubbed his chin just right he might even drool slightly. 

Often, he would rub your face near your temples purred.  If you were kicked back in a recliner, he would drape himself across your lap or snuggle up across you chest. If ever there was a cat that ran on love and cat food, it was the big guy.

Cancer finally got him in the end.  It started in his paws and quickly consumed him.  In his final months with us he saw me become very ill, survive amputation surgery and recover.  Initially, he sort of avioded me after I came home from the hospital, but as I slowly came out of being sick he warmed back up to me and was the same old Tiger, if a little slower.  At least it seemed that way.  If his cancer had taken him then it would have been harder to get the motivation to do anything, much less walk again. 

While I have been randomly praised by my family and friends for sparing him further suffering in putting him to sleep, I have trouble forgiving myself for giving up hope that he might get better.  When I see him after my walk upstairs, I guess I'll find out if he's forgiven me.

So in memory of my cat Tiger, this blog is your dedication. 

Thank you for being one of the best friends I have ever had.