Tigger Hilberman, 1990-2008
Tigger's original name was Chewbaca. No one's sure why, except that it's really hard to name rescue kitty after rescue kitty, so you have to get creative. We got him from an LA organization called the Amanda Foundation, and when we first brought him home as a kitten, Charlotte was so terrified she cried and screamed.
Tig turned out to be a bit of a terrifying cat - that is if you were another cat, a bird, a lizard, or any other small creature. He would attack your ankles as you walked by, and jump your foot as you tapped it unconsciously. He was trouble.
But he was our trouble. He liked to play with toys and attack toes through blankets. He liked the chicken from soup and he would leap onto the counter and steal milk from your cereal bowl. He liked to be brushed, but he was never that furry or particularly patient. Before he got grayer, Tigger was a handsome gray and white tabby with a purr so quiet you had to press your ear to him to hear it. He was quiet in that he didn't talk much, but loud when he scrambled across the wooden floors after whatever moth he was tormenting.
Tigger came down with some sort of anemia and was hospitalized the night before the 1994 Northridge earthquake. Our first order of business in the morning was to drive to the vet and make sure he was okay.
In his later years, he tormented Rufus, the younger feline interloper. He never let Spot the dog get too close, not matter how hard she tried or wagged her tail. He did learn to cuddle with people, sitting in laps on couches and snuggling close in bed. He would nestle into your next and drool, occasionally snapping his killer teeth instinctively. He would climb onto your lap and let you carry him around, the way you always wanted him to when he was too precocious a kitten to care.
And then Tigger became sick and scrawny, and he took pills every day for his scrawnyness. He stopped going outside and got rides upstairs. But he still liked to cuddle and bite, stare down Rufus, and eat soup chicken. And then he stopped doing much of anything at all, and today he died. Tigger was a good cat - grumpy and skinny and loving and nuzzling - and we will miss him.
Also, Tigger loved to sleep in my shoes after he finished fighting them. This one always got stuck on his head.
Tig turned out to be a bit of a terrifying cat - that is if you were another cat, a bird, a lizard, or any other small creature. He would attack your ankles as you walked by, and jump your foot as you tapped it unconsciously. He was trouble.
But he was our trouble. He liked to play with toys and attack toes through blankets. He liked the chicken from soup and he would leap onto the counter and steal milk from your cereal bowl. He liked to be brushed, but he was never that furry or particularly patient. Before he got grayer, Tigger was a handsome gray and white tabby with a purr so quiet you had to press your ear to him to hear it. He was quiet in that he didn't talk much, but loud when he scrambled across the wooden floors after whatever moth he was tormenting.
Tigger came down with some sort of anemia and was hospitalized the night before the 1994 Northridge earthquake. Our first order of business in the morning was to drive to the vet and make sure he was okay.
In his later years, he tormented Rufus, the younger feline interloper. He never let Spot the dog get too close, not matter how hard she tried or wagged her tail. He did learn to cuddle with people, sitting in laps on couches and snuggling close in bed. He would nestle into your next and drool, occasionally snapping his killer teeth instinctively. He would climb onto your lap and let you carry him around, the way you always wanted him to when he was too precocious a kitten to care.
And then Tigger became sick and scrawny, and he took pills every day for his scrawnyness. He stopped going outside and got rides upstairs. But he still liked to cuddle and bite, stare down Rufus, and eat soup chicken. And then he stopped doing much of anything at all, and today he died. Tigger was a good cat - grumpy and skinny and loving and nuzzling - and we will miss him.
Also, Tigger loved to sleep in my shoes after he finished fighting them. This one always got stuck on his head.