Of Old and Very Dear Friends

I remember the day he was born. Not the exact date, exactly, but I remember when we found his mother on Brandon's bed, heaving with the contractions, exhausted but still fighting. I remember what he looked like, so small and helpless, covered in blood and other fluids, trembling in the dark, crying for his mother.

I remember dad choosing him, for he was the most colorful of the rest. I remember how we debated over what to name him, whispering over them hushedly, tenderly, reverently stroking his orange head, his large green eyes watching us. Would it be Tigger? Tiger? Yes, Tiger sounded good.

I remember the time in Philadelphia (New York, that is) when Mom brought him outside. Not, his first time, to be sure, but the first time when a train decided to roll through. This house had a railroad track not a hundred yards from the edge of the back yard (where Brandon once thought it would be fun to play chicken. He never did that again...) He ran off, and broke mom's favorite mug, but she wasn't mad. She was just happy he came home again.

I remember the time we first brought Ink-Stink into the house. Terra hated the poor oil drenched kitten on sight, but Tiger...Tiger adored the small cat, and played with him. He was very sad to see the little one go back to it's home.

I remember the Banded-Woolly Worm that lived at the end of his tail. Everyone would playfully grab at it, but only dad could catch and hold it with ease. Dad was his favorite person...he probably knew that Dad was the reason he stayed in the family.

I remember he hated to move and would be mad at us for days. Not quite like his mother, perhaps, but still angry. He survived three of them.

I remember when we brought Snowy into the house. Sadly, neither Tiger, Terra nor Rachel took a liking to her. But she was my favorite cat. Though they would hiss and spit at each other, they grew comfortable enough with each other. I remember Tiger was very sad when she never came home from the vets. She had Feline Leukemia, a kind of cat AIDS. I miss her.

I remember him being a little bewildered when Rachel didn't come home either. She had cancer. I miss her, too.

I remember when he got out of the house into the front yard and decided to go greet the black lab that was coming down the street. Apparently he didn't realize that not all dogs are as friendly as Rachel or Shawn.

I remember a time when I could pet him, and not feel ever single vertebrae of his spine, for he was a hefty cat, but a truly handsome fellow. I also remember a time when it took next to no effort to get him to purr. Now we're lucky if we get a sound of protest out of him.

I remember a lot of things about Tiger, some more precious than others. Mostly, I remember him when he was healthy, and it makes me cry to think that he's not anymore. My long time friend and companion is dying and I can't do anything.