I’m sitting here crying for a cat I never met. Actually, I guess I’m crying for you, Spoons. You did the right thing every step of the way, including consulting your ex.
I’m glad you were blessed with Tigger and he with you for his time here on earth.
You’re not the only one with tears in her eyes. Spoons I am certain that Tigger knew he was loved.
Friends, thank you again for your kind words. Let me tell you about Tigger and his life with us.
Tig came into our lives in January of 2005. A local family had got a kitty-cat for their daughter, who named him Tigger, after the tiger in Winnie-the Pooh stories. Problem was, that the daughter turned out to be allergic to kitty-cats. Returning him to the animal shelter was an option, but as he was about a year old, he’d likely be scheduled for euthanasia. Everybody wants cute kittens, nobody wants a year-old big orange cat.
We took him in. We already had five cats (my ex-wife could collect cats like some folks collect baseball cards). He was a handful at first, trying to establish himself as Alpha Cat, but once Denver dismissed him as “you really wanna try something?” and Annie basically said, “You’re beneath my notice,” and Fiona, smallest of all, punched him in the nose, he settled down and became part of the family.
A couple of years later, we adopted Stripe, a feral mackerel tabby. Stripe was big and husky and strong, and he and Tig got along just fine–both were big, and loved to wrestle, and the floor shook when they did. Each weighed about twenty pounds. It was fun to watch them, but I did have to step in at times.
Sadly, Stripe passed away (heart attack), and Tig was left with the others and me. He couldn’t conquer them, so he decided to control me. He seemed to take delight in reminding me when food and water bowls needed filling, for example (“Meow! Meow! Meow!” while he stood by the food bowls). That is, unless I was watching sports on TV, when he would jump up on the arm of my easy chair in front of the TV, and settle in. I don’t know if he really watched, and I know that he didn’t understand, but it was great to have him there. “Tig! The Blue Jays just got two runs!” “Meow!” “Tig, the Blue Jays are your favourite team, right?” “Meow!” Of course, Tig had no idea what was going on in the ball game, but I was happy, so that made him happy. That was Tig, and I’d often get loud purrs at such times.
Watching him deteriorate over such a short period of time was so difficult. A strong, big, cat became a shadow of himself within a week.
On a brighter note, here is Tig (in the back) and Stripe (in front), not liking being interrupted from their naps by me with a camera:
Great cats, both of them.
Damn, Spoons, I think there’s something in my eyes. Tig was indeed a big, beautiful kitty, and I know you’ll cherish your time with him forever, and especially miss him when watching TV sports. But you did the right thing by helping him get past his suffering.
Been here, I know the feeling. My sympathies.
My condolences; letting them go even when you know it’s right is hard.
When I had to put my Sandstone to sleep about 10 years ago I hadn’t heard of those clay paw print reminders. I had specified not getting his ashes back, so I was very surprised to get a package in the mail maybe 10 days later; it was the paw print thingie. Both front paws and it’s somehow very him. It’s tucked away safely.
Our pets are sometimes the only constant in our lives. We miss them terribly when they are gone.
Imhotep’s life goal was to keep me bedridden; I’ve had a really bad cold/food poisoning and have mostly been in bed. She would have loved that. I miss snuggling with her.
I’m just catching up with this thread @Spoons and I’m so sorry to hear about Tigger. Cat-shaped holes in the heart really hurt. I’ve got one that’s just starting to heal. It’s hard for animal lovers to go through this so many times in our lives but those wonderful little creatures are worth it.
I’ve got so many cat-shaped holes in my heart, it’s a miracle it can still pump.
Mine can still pump because I’ve had so many cat 
shapes in my life!
This. (I guess that was five characters without addendum. But the cats were all characters; and all different ones.)
It’s been a few days without an addition to this thread. Have we all got better sleep?
“Sleep”? What’s that?
I’m torn between the desire to sleep and finally having an urge to work on my NaNoWriMo project.
Actually, my insomnia came back this past week and made me think of when this thread first started and we were all talking about that. 
I had hoped the time change would have me going to sleep earlier but that didn’t work. So now I’m still up until 4:00, which was 5:00 before. I try to tell myself that this is actually the “real time” and it really is just 4:00 and then when the time changes again, I’ll be going to sleep earlier … but then I’m just going in circles. 
I do hate that not waking up until 1:00 or 2:00 means there is very little daylight. And I used to love this time of year, back when I was working. I didn’t mind at all that it was dark when I got home. But being awake and alone when it’s dark almost all the time just makes me feel that much more closed in. And I know that yard visits with friends will be stopping soon and there will be months ahead where I probably won’t see anyone.
Shit, didn’t mean to get depressive about it. I’m doing ok. I certainly had darker days in the beginning of the pandemic. I know I just have to hang in there until spring and hopefully there will be a vaccine and things can start to return to normal.
Still working graveyard.
Still muttering around about sleep. Pandemic gloom looms large.
I’m going to sleep like the dead tonight. We had a power outage Sunday, woke up to a very cold house, took the baby and half our household items to a hotel, (baby in hotel is NOT fun,) then the power came back on so we brought it all back.
We have heat and power now and I am just so grateful and so tired.
While I was tossing and turning last night I did get an idea for my book’s ending so I might stay up a bit tonight to work on that. If I can tear myself away from my phone.
Should be in bed right now.
Grruagh! Head won’t stop.
Got my test results, no covid, yay.
Had to download an app, again, that I don’t like, doesn’t seem very secure and so on and so forth.
I had to get my results from a 
database.
Sometimes I understand the paranoia and fear and wanting to burn it all down.
This is MY stuff, MY info, this is ME!
This database crap really bugs me. Usually, I can mostly very carefully ignore the reality of it, but not when it’s rubbed in my face like this.
This is my life, not some product for corporate consumption. I didn’t consent to this, I don’t want my stuff out there for all and sundry to see!
This is how we lose, have lost, are losing control.
With the state of the state, with the way the internet has been and is being molded and shaped, with how pervasive electronic devices have become, watching, measuring, monitoring us in ways we never imagine, is democracy nothing more than a thinly veiled sham?
I think, some days, that it is and we are all cradled in the velvet gloved iron fist of a corporate oligarchy.
I’m done, for tonight. To bed, hopefully to sleep, and perchance to dream of a more pleasing world.