He was a cool cat.

My girl Monica finally told me the story of his end.

“Awwww. I really love orange tabbies. They just have a different type of personality than other cats. Did you know what happened to Tigger? He was The Survivor. He outlasted all the cats. He disappeared a few days before Hurricane Irene hit. The day of, we got a call from our vet that Tigger was found by a man across town. I went to the address. He was disheveled and gaunt. I took him home and he lived the rest of what few days he had in my room. Safe from the storm and safe from harm. He was welcome to sleep in my bed but I think he preferred the cat bed I supplied for him. He constantly cried. Not to be let outside, but to be held and cuddled. He knew he was dying, but we didn’t. Yeah, we knew he was old (approximately 17), but we didn’t know what was happening to him on the inside. I left for Georgia a few days after Hurricane Irene. I was afraid to ask about Tigger while I was away. I guess in my heart I knew I was losing him. When I got home he was gone. Mom said one night he kept crying and crying for company. Frederick, Mom’s fiancé, went into my room and slept the whole night on my bed with Tigger lying on his chest. He said Tigger purred all night with contentment. The next day, they took him to the vet. The vet confirmed Tigger was in kidney failure. They put him to sleep. It made me so sad and mad I didn’t get to say goodbye. But I was happy to know he didn’t die alone in that hurricane like he had probably intended.”

They all die. And we never forget them.

And my girl can write. How about that?