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Tiger, a cat remembered... 2:23 p.m. 2005-02-23 I don’t know if anyone has noticed this before, but when I was younger, as my father drove me to school each morning, I would notice the number of cats roaming the neighborhood streets. I would often see our family cat, “Tiger” in particular making his way from the canyon or from the neighbor’s home, back to our house. This would happen every morning, and it made me wonder just where Tiger and these cats had been all night. Did the cats in the neighborhood attend a secret meeting in the canyon late throughout the night? What were they up to? Were they throwing parties, playing cards or throwing darts? All of this was quite fascinating to me, and I would imagine all the way to school just what those cats were up to. Of course, they were probably in the canyon hunting for mice or lizards, or birds, but I much rather wanted to think that there was some kind of secret association that the cats shared. I pictured Tiger our cat wearing the chief’s headdress and commencing the evening meeting. It was no secret that Tiger of course was “King” of the neighborhood. He was the most fearless of the neighborhood, and he was a fighter. He was known to make dogs wimper in distress if one of them made it to our front yard. Tiger had no fear, and had the reputation to maintain. I had seen this cat putting up fighting paws to much larger dogs who happened to step over the line, and I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I have witnessed more than one dog run away whining with it’s tail between his legs. Tiger was also inspirational to the other animals in the family. He taught the family dog how to actually jump and walk a fence. I am not kidding. Tiger was an outside cat, but he always managed to get upstairs in my room. We had a drill. Once he heard me upstairs, he would send out his signal, which consisted of a number of “meows”. I would then open the window, look out below to proper identify Tiger, and then pat my hand on the window sill to indicate that the window was open and coast was clear. Tiger in turn would leap up 5 feet inside through the window, and make his way to his favorite place on my bed. Tiger seemed to have 9 lives, but was becoming apparent that he was close to his last. Tiger had an array of battle scars from various cat fights and dog encounters. I will never forget the day, years later, while I was leaving the house to go to school the look on his face as I was backing out of the driveway. He looked me silently, blinked, meowed, and stared as to say “goodbye”. He then turned around and limped back into the backyard. Who knows how many other kittens Tiger had fathered through the years, but it wasn’t too long ago, as I was driving down my mother’s street, I saw a young orange and white striped cat coming out of the canyon. He had that famous “Morris” grin that Tiger had once possessed, and he stopped to look at me, as if he was saying, “Hello lady, who are you looking at?” Coelha@aol.com |