Tigger
I buried my cat with my bare hands this afternoon before the sun went down and then I had dinner with my parents. If I could put to words what I feel like I would be a better writer than I am. Like a thirst I can’t quench. And thirst itself. A sneeze that won’t come, tears I can’t push out and the guilt that comes with it.
I met Tigger in 1998 in Orlando. I met her the month I went vegan. I was working as a lifeguard at Walt Disney World. I had just turned 18. I had just had knee surgery. I was supposed to take an extra cat off of a co-worker’s hands (not Tiggs), but it was a long hair and my family doesn’t do well with long hairs, so he asked me to take Tigger instead. She lived with me a month before my landlord caught her in the apartment and kicked her out. Faced with the choice between a kennel or bringing her to the pound, I decided instead to toss her in the car and drive her to my parents’ house in Maine.
On the drive to Maine, Tigger managed somehow to lock me out of my car in DC while I was getting gas. As I often do, I had left the keys in the ignition, so I had to call AAA, all the while thinking of those stories of kids who get trapped in cars with no open windows and die. That was January 1999. She lived at my parents’ house until, well, until today. I guess she still lives there…
Tigger was the sweetest cat I’ve ever encountered. She never grew up, she was a perpetual kitten; childlike stare, energy, optimism. She loved me (and everyone else) unconditionally. I would like to believe that my first act of kindness and mercy when she was 6 months old had something to do with that. I believe that that decision affected who I turned out to be in the long run- I think Tigger made me a better man.
For the past decade, whenever I showed up at my parents’ home I would call out for Tigger and she would come running. In fact, more often than not I would enter the house calling for her. I don’t know that I can fathom how quickly that part of my reality has changed, shifted.
I buried my cat with my bare hands today. I loved her. I would talk about her as if she were my child. In some ways I guess she was. She loved me. She always remembered she was my cat (though I think she thought of herself as my sister’s cat as well), no matter how long I was away.
I had lunch with my parents this afternoon. When we sat down, I asked them how they were doing and they informed me of Tigger’s failing health- she would be going to the Vet’s today. I know she was in pain, I know she had congestive heart failure and a tumor on her thyroid. I know that there was no telling how much time she had. But a part of me wishes they had waited until tomorrow morning to bring her to the vet. They put her down. And so, when I arrived at the house with fresh baked bread, I sat and waited for my mom to arrive at home with my newly euthanized cat wrapped in a towel inside of a box.
She was so frightened that they had to give her an anesthetic before they could put her down. She was so frightened that she hid under my sister’s bed when my mom came home to take her to the vets- she knew she wouldn’t come home again. She was so tired, sick and dehydrated that she couldn’t jump up to her favorite perches, and she was spending days upstairs.
I’m sorry Tigger, I don’t know what to say or to feel. I put you in the back corner of the yard, marked with a rock, in front of the tree that is now and will forever be yours. I decided that as soon as I walked into the backyard. It took a shovel, a hoe, a hand trowel, a saw and a hatchet to dig a hole that was big enough, but I had decided on that spot, so we went with it in spite of the roots and the rocks, in spite of the fact that it messed up the new garden. Ultimately, I had to use my hands to get the hole big enough, because nothing else worked. But she’s my cat, so she gets the best spot I can find for her. She lived in a house with two cats nearly twice her size, so I always had her back.
The tears are coming now. I buried my cat with my bare hands before dinner today and it made me feel numb. She showed me love without judgement, hesitation- unconditional love, something it is hard to find outside of family. Okay, so she was family. She was my little girl, a rock in the life of someone who can never seem to stay put. And I buried her today.
April 23, 2008 at 1:06 pm
I miss Tiggie a lot, too. It was a really hard decision to not just bring Tigger home with me, sort of alive and just hope for the best. The vet assured me that if she died on her own it would not be pleasant for her. Ihad seen her struggling to breath, panting on her side and not able to lap water from my finger. But all of that didn’t make it easier for me. The tears came and are still running down my face as I read what you wrote.
Tigger sat in my lap almost every night. She would prefer you or Christine if you were around and she missed you both very much over the years. Two of her favorite places to be were in the sun on your bed or Christine’s.
It’s really hard to lose a “pet child”, it makes me think maybe I shouldn’t have any more. But then I remember what great company they are always, but particularly when you are sad.
In their own ways, Haley and Suzie miss Tigger too. Suzie went out to Tigger’s garden spot this morning to pay her respects. All three kitties shared spaces and food dishes and basically lived in harmony. Haley teased her indoors – but protected her outside. They will miss her, too.
Just because you love someone (or “somecat”) and lose them makes you sad — but to have never had them to love would be far, far worse.
April 23, 2008 at 7:09 pm
Jon,
I just kind of stumbled upon your blog again, to see if you had posted anything new because I like to read about your many travels and adventures. I am really sorry to hear about Tigger. I can’t say I know how you feel because I’ve never lost a pet that meant a lot to me like Tigger meant to you. As sad as this entry was it was also beautiful and filled with love and I’m sure that’s how Tigger always knew you.
I don’t know if you’re in Portland for any extended period of time, but if you feel like going out for a bit or getting food or anything, ring me up (but I’m using j’s phone so the last four numbers are 9322).
I give good hugs
May 7, 2008 at 1:49 pm
I know what you are going through. My Thomas cat kid is dying as we speak. I have had many cats over the years but Thomas has always been so special. He is 16 years old and last week he stopped eating and drinking. He has been failing for the last year-becoming thin and eating less-sleeping more.
I called the vet and after much conversation decided to let him pass peacefully with dignity at home surrounded by familiy and friends. I could not stand the thought of him passing in a vet hospital in a wire cage with IV’s hooked up all by himself with strange animals barking and meowing. knowing that he would not make it regardless of treatment. I cry every day. Cats leave payprints on our hearts. I will never forget Thomas. He will always be in my heart.
May 8, 2008 at 4:33 pm
It was a tough weekend in the Turnbull household. Our 12 year old family cat, Jordie, had to be put down due to severe kidney failure. He had a tough life, but at the same time a wonderful life, mostly thanks to my wife Tara. She found him on the street when he was a baby, almost dead. He had everything you could imagine: worms, fleas, covered in dirt, pneumonia, infection in eyes, malnourished. Yet he purred the whole time when she picked him up and took him home. That was his signature in his life, his…