Welcome to My Page

Hi! I'm Tiger.

Pictures of My Friends

Tiger moved in with me in the spring of 1994. It was spring break and I was home from grad school, and I kept hearing this cat outside my bedroom window crying. By the time I could get outside, he'd bolt. After a couple of days I was able to coax him to take some of my roommate's leftover hamburger helper. After feeding him, I had a friend for life. A few weeks later, one evening when we had to doors open to get some air in the house, he walked into the front hall and let me pet him.

He was filthy, of course. His fur was dirty and grey, and he had fleas, and a condition known as cat acne. But he'd been somebody's pet, you could see where he'd had a collar once, and he'd been neutered, and he was box trained and very affectionate. There were apartment buildings two streets away, and I guess somebody had abandoned him. He appeared to be surviving on bugs and handouts. Anytime a moth or cicada flew by he would shoot after it and grab it out of the air. He liked geckos too. We nicknamed him The Mighty Bug Hunter.

Tiger lived in the bushes in front of our house, and wandered the neighborhood for a while, but soon he figured out he could get into our house through a hole in the roof our landlord was too cheap to fix. We'd be sitting in the livingroom watching tv, and we'd hear this pitiful meowing coming from the attic. Tiger soon learned where the hatch from the attic was, and he'd go sit on it until it started to open from his weight and then he would jump down into the house. After a couple of weeks of this my roommates agreed he could live with us as long as he got cleaned up, so off to the vet he went. From this point Tiger became an indoor cat. This was when I found out he wasn't a brown and grey kitty, he was ginger with a lovely white bib and boots.

As lovely as his fur was, Tiger had bad teeth. When he came to live with us he had one of his large front fangs broken at the tip, and the other one discolored. One day he spit some teeth out in front of my roommate. Eventually, I had to take him for dental work, as the discolored tooth went bad and needed to be removed. He was at the vet a couple of days, and I'm sure he didn't enjoy it. I remember when I went to pick him up to bring him home. The vet went back down the hall about 50 feet to the area where the animals were kept, and brought him out. He was laying limp and dejected in her arms. I stood in the lobby watching, and after a few steps he saw me his head came up and he let out an excited meow of recognition. He purred all the way home. And he never did like anyone trying to look at his teeth, after that.

Here's Tiger "helping" with my quilting. The ironing board was a favorite perch when we lived in Texas. And of course, all fabric had to be approved before I could use it.

I had some built in shelving that I used for fabric storage, and here's Tiger on my small portable ironing board, using my fabric as a pillow. He's giving me a look that says "I know I'm not supposed to be up here, and I don't care if you don't like it."

Tiger on his favorite chair in the game room. He liked to come keep us company, and he'd lay on this chair because it had a cushion. If somebody else was sitting in the chair, he'd jump into it as soon as they stood up. And good luck getting him out of it. Tiger had really strong 'cat gravity'. You could tip the chair almost vertical and he wouldn't slide off it. I had him trained so you could just gently pat his backside and he knew he was supposed to get up and move, but being as spoiled as he was, he'd let out this pathetic little whine that always made you feel guilty for disturbing him.

This is the last picture I got of him, about 3 months before he died. You can kind of see how thin he had started to get. He used to like to lay here, because it was in the livingroom and he could see everyone from this spot. The scratching post was a well-used favorite. I remember the day we brought it home. Tiger had never had one before, as far as I knew, and we decided he needed something to use instead of my old couch. Well, as soon as we walked into the house with it you could just see his face light up. He jumped off the couch and came running right up to us, his head up and looking at it, and started meowing insistently. We could tell by the way he was acting that he knew exactly what the post was for, and that he'd decided it was *his*. Sure enough, as soon as we set it down he was on it, scratching away, and he spent the next week sleeping on it, chasing Coco away from using it.