Remembering Tig

On Sept 8, 2025, I lost my feline best friend. I have wanted to write about the experience, and what he was to me, but I couldn’t before now. I wasn’t a “cat mom” before Tig. Not at all. I had my canine best friend, Marlee, who had been with me about ten years by that time, and had no plans to expand with the feline variety of critters. But Tig was special. So special. His mother died suddenly of a snake bite when he was only two weeks old. He needed a “foster mom” to help him and his siblings survive without a mother. Having had experience bottle feeding kittens before, I offered to help. I thought it would be a wonderful learning experience for my kids, who had never had the opportunity to raise any animal by bottle before. We took in the whole litter of six kittens, intending it to only be for about 4 to 6 weeks, just until they were weaned. I made it clear that I could not keep them, and was only taking them in temporarily. What a wonderful adventure that was—raising those kittens. As things go, we were not able to save all of them. The vet said they had “failure to thrive,” which is common among newborn animals without the care of their natural mother. However, we were able to save three and get them weaned. By then, though, Tig had stood out to me from the rest. He was the only one who would furrow up my neck after a feeding and snuggle up in my hair like it was the safest place in the world. He was the only one who would wriggle down into my shirt and lay content next to my heart. He was the smallest, and appeared to be the frailest. I would have called him the “runt” of the litter. But he was a fighter and he survived! At the end of our bottle-feeding journey, I could not bear to part with Tig, and asked if I might could keep him. Of course I was allowed to! Tig’s little heart was already knit to mine, and that never changed in the days to come. After his siblings went back to their home and he stayed, he got very sick. The vet treated him for a respiratory infection, and almost immediately his little personality did a drastic shift. Before then he was subdued, sweet and gentle, and just wanted to cuddle and snuggle me almost all the time. After he was treated for the illness, he became very playful and rambunctious. We found that Tig had a very mischievous side. I joked that he had to make sure we would keep him before letting us see his “true colors.” But in reality, we loved Tig so much, and it didn’t really matter what he did or how he acted.

               I didn’t know what the future held for me when I decided to raise and keep Tig, but looking back I don’t think it was any coincidence that he came into my life when he did. I did recognize from the beginning that he was in some ways a restoration for me. As a child I had bottle-fed and raised a kitten before (named Tabby), and had unfortunately watched her be violently killed by my father in a horrific accident just prior to her one-year birthday. Tig was my chance to have that experience again, and this time to not have my friend be ripped away prematurely. That was such a sweet and special gift for me, and healed things in me I wasn’t even aware needed healing. But not long after getting Tig, my life was turned upside down by events beyond my control. I’m not sure I would have survived everything that came without him. He was my sole comfort. He never let a night pass without snuggling and cuddling me. He was always waiting for me when I got home, greeting me with the sweetest “meow” and raising up on his back legs, extending his front paws up and toward me for me to pick him up. He was so attached to me and very much like a little baby. I was his mom, and he wanted me to hold him always. It was such a comfort to me when my heart was broken and hurting. He walked through the most painful season of my life with me, and for that I will be forever grateful to him. I can only hope in the losing of him that there are no more of those seasons in my future. I can’t imagine facing that pain ever again without him.

On a slightly lighter note, Tig wasn’t just a comfort in the pain, he was also entertainment and protection. He had his little quirky ways that you couldn’t help but laugh at. For example, he only liked to drink water fresh out of the facet, preferably from my husband’s hands. He would demand to be hand-fed water until we did what he wanted. He was what they call “scary” in that he was a literal scaredy cat. He was afraid of noises, new people and new things, and would run and hide at the slightest thing. He clearly had PTSD, perhaps from his early days, but would get triggered into flight-or-fight easily. When this happened his pupils would dilate hugely, and he would either run away, terrified, or he would attack viciously. I still have permanent scars from some of those attacks. I had more than one doctor visit (with accompanying antibiotics) because of them. It was so strange that he could love me so fiercely as he did, yet attack me as if he wanted to kill me at the same time. But as a therapist, it helped me understand how deep the survival mechanism goes and what people can be capable of when their prefrontal cortex/logical mind has been shut off for survival. By the same token, he would attack anyone who threatened me. He was my “guard cat” for sure. I have a hilarious video of him chasing off a dog out of my yard. That dog never dared to get near me because Tig had him running for his poor little life. Tig also killed more than one snake that dared to cross his territory and get near my door. He was a fierce little thing, but so sweet and loving, too.

               There will never be another Tig. The bond that he and I shared for a decade is irreplaceable. The fact that I was his “mother” and nurtured him through the bottle-feeding process intensified our closeness. I am still heartbroken over losing him, even now trying to understand the why, the how, the what. Grief is not a stranger to me and I am trying to just allow myself to walk through it slowly, as I can bear to. I will forever miss my sweet, dear, loving best friend. I hope we can meet again someday.

Here are a few of the funnier pictures I have of Tig. In the first one he is literally "cheesing" as my daughter was taking his posed portrait in her room. How funny is that?? In the second one we had gone out and came home to find him laying in my daughter's doll bed in her dollhouse. How did he even know that was a bed to lay in? So hilarious he was!