Goodbye, Tigresa

Tigresa was anything but a tiger. If a stranger came to the house, she was the first up the stairs and under a bed. The other cats would sometimes fight her and put her in her place. She got that name because ten years ago, when she was a kitten, in her coloring some stripes were visible, so my daughter named her Tigresa. 

She considered me her primary friend. She would always come to me to ask for food and cuddles. But she wasn't a lap cat. When I picked her up, she preferred to be held like a baby and for me to squeeze and cuddle her, scratch her under her chin and at her breastbone. And she would purr and stretch and close her paws as if she were kneading. At night her favorite place to sleep until about two years ago was me. I would wake up, feel a weight on my legs, and there she would be, lying in the hollow between my two legs, all stretched out, head on paws, sleeping. And then I wouldn't be able to move most of the night. I was her favorite person; she would tolerate my daughter but didn't want my husband to touch her too much. He never hurt her or did anything to threaten her, but she just didn't trust him like she trusted me. 

She had a flight personality. Partly because of her nature, partly because the other cats had picked on her the last couple of years, ever since she had had a miscarriage. Lately, it had gotten worse. She would be washing herself, look over her shoulder and beat the dust out of Dodge. For no reason. I attributed it to her personality. Perhaps she had become schizophrenic. She still loved me, though, and purred and rubbed against my legs, asking for food and love. But last week she had visible liquid retention and was not breathing well. I suspected the worst but took her to the vet's anyway. They took out the liquid and left her breating more easily, but confirmed my suspicion. She had cancer and was dying. 

I brought her home. She was relieved once I opened the carrier in the hallway. At the vet's she had been extremely anxious. So much so that the vet had had to sedate her to take x-rays, despite that having been a large risk. Once home, though her breathing worsened, she was tranquil. Last night she took her last breath, with me by her side, where she felt safe. 

Goodbye, sweet Tiger.