Tiggy

This afternoon, very suddenly, and without any warning, our handsome Tigger died from what appears to be an undiagnosed heart or lung problem. Within the space of an hour we were forced to watch as he struggled in pain, completely unable to help him, or understand what was wrong. I called the vet at the emergency vet in a panic as our poor furbaby finally went into convulsions, unable to breathe, but they weren't able to help him, and moments later he was lifeless on the floor.

We tucked him into his favourite box and hurried over to the vet's office, but at some point on the drive his shallow breathing stopped completely.

The lady at the vet's office was very kind, and didn't even bat an eye as I went thoroughly to pieces. She took him away as he lay curled in his box, on his favourite blue blanket, and he looked kind of peaceful. I'm sure the blanket and the box will end up in some trash heap somewhere, but at least I can remember him as if he was sleeping, as opposed to stretched out on some cold, sterile vet's table.

We're home again now... we've cleaned up after Tigger, and Brady seems quietly confused, though I think he must have known before we did how serious it was. He keeps retracing Tigger's final path through the house, sniffing everywhere, as if trying to find him, end up finally at the spot on the livingroom rug where it all ended. I imagine his little kitty heart is hurting as much as mine is right now.

Here they are together:














I imagine sometime next week I'll manage to stop crying.