The last remaining pet of our daughters' growing up years is now gone. Today we buried "Tiger, the cat," as granddaughter, Rebecca, fondly called him. It was a lesson in grief and loss for our little almost three-year-old firstborn granddaughter. She matured today. Grief does that.
We prayed that the Lord would let Tiger go in his sleep, unlike our other three pets in years past who we had to put down. God answered. Slipping quietly into Tiger's basement room, we noticed he had passed sometime during the night or early morning hours.
An affectionate friend, he clung to our necks like a koala bear, nuzzled our faces while we slept, and insisted on his daily, if not hourly petting. He kept us warm in the winter, humored us in the summer with his silly tail chasing antics, and provided companionship year around.
Together with our female cat, he became daddy to four male kittens who he nurtured as seriously as mama, licking their coats and carrying them from place to place.
"Loyal" was his middle name, for he stuck by us through thick and thin.
Our family will miss you, Tiger. Your garden resting place seems fitting for a cat who loved to sit by the flowers, soak in the sun, and chew on the grass.
Thanks for the many years of enjoyment you provided us!
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