Tigger

Steve found Tigger's body this morning, and we buried him up on the hill by Virginia and Sputter.

It has been a weird few days of silence, no one meowing for breakfast in the mornings. Very odd to wake up without him staring in the window at us with that mildly annoyed look on his face, as if to say: "How dare you sleep when I'm starving?"

He was, as Steve said, as fine a cat as has ever lived, with his super soft rabbit fur, his rumbly purr, his raggedy and filigreed ears, and of course the gigantic 6-toed feet attached to his tiny barn-cat body.

I wish I had known him longer, but I'm glad I knew him at all.

He will be missed.