My mother gave me the bad news today. The beloved family cat is dying. He's been dying for months. Today he refused food all together, for the first time. And just lays in one spot. She put him in a box with towels. And keeps him close to her. Waiting on when he takes his last breath. This is a very sad time for all of us. He truely was like a little brother to me. I remember the first day we had him. Amy and I just came home from school. I was seven or eight years old. As we walked in the living room we saw a little furry creature in moms hands. He was so tiny, being only three weeks old. His fur was very dark with stripes and he was fluffy all over. Mom was going to name him Frodo. Dad didn't want to name him that, for whatever reason. (my dad wasn't a cat person. he is more of one now.) It was Dad who named him Tigger.
Later, as the years flew by I would tell Tigger all my secrets and we would talk about life and the things that were going on in the world. He was my best-friend and my little furry brother. I hate the fact that he is leaving us. I try to forget about it, to block it out. For months I had refused to talke about it. Knowing that he was dying and that he wouldn't be with us anymore. I had done the same with Tabby. It hurts when a pet that you love with all of your heart passes away. You just have to remember to leave room in your heart for those who are living. Though no animal will ever replace the one before it. They all fill your heart with joy, laughter, and love.
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