I was seven when I walked into a small privately run pet store in Texas. Me and my mama were buying feeder minnows for Sarah, my pet snake. I suppose I have to thank Jaime then for giving me Sarah, because without her I wouldn't have found you.

You were a little ball of orange striped fur. Cuddled up against a pale pink rabbit. They'd stained his fur with food coloring for Easter mama told me. Apparently it wouldn't make them sick. It was after Easter now and they had a pen full of kittens and rabbits.

There were other orange tiger kitties, but you were the one I wanted. You matched the kitten on my pencil sharpener, the one I'd told mama I wanted. I remember telling her with absolute certainty that can only be found in such young children, "Some day, that'll be my kitten."

And you were.

When I brought you home you were wrapped in a pink towel. To keep you warm mama said. Kittens get cold fast mama said. I didn't question, mama knows everything.

I paraded you around the midway, so proud of my new kitten. I, much to my amusement now, called you a little girl. Named you Tiger Lilly. The lady at the store said you were a girl, and she must know what she's talking about.

I remember taking you to the vet, for your shots. You were always so good about getting shots. And the vet flipped you on your back and said, with a slight chuckle and to my complete horror, "It's a boy."

Oh no, I'd named a boy LILLY, that's just not right!

Well, grandpa renamed you didn't he, and made up for mommy's mistake. He teased me, calling you Tiger Willy, and it stuck.

Grandpa loved you so much. You have no idea how much what happened hurt him.

We soon discovered you liked licking plastic bags, and had to learn to keep them out of your reach. You drove us crazy with it, but I secretly didn't want to deny you anything, and would let you do it when no one else was around and I was in a more than agreeable mood. I wanted you to always be happy.

You loved feathers, so much. You made the strangest little croaking sound when you'd watch birds or flies. You were a wonderful fly catcher.

I remember when we got you, you had been taken away from your mother too soon, and Bugs, a male cat, by some insane miracle, managed to finish nursing you. I'll never know how or why he did it, I'll never even understand how it was physically possible, but it was so.

Bugs loved you. You brought him out of mourning from when Christy, my Kissy, had died. Our beautiful long haired calico with the bumble bee marking next to her ear. You made him so happy.

Then Bugs become suddenly ill and we had to let him go. I know you grieved, we all did. It hurt us all so much. But none more than you. Bugs was your everything. I'm so sorry you lost him so soon in your life my baby kitty. I'm so sorry.

And then there was Rags, our beautiful lilac point Himalayan. A sweet, loving, soft baby boy. We lost him too soon. I know you grieved him too.

Then there was Jack. Our little girl. A rescued cat from the pound. You weren't close at first, but you grew on each other and eventually I got pictures like this one here. You loved her. She loved you.

And I brought a puppy into the house, for better or worse. You didn't like him, and Jack hated him. You eventually tolerated him, and Jack eventually became a recluse from him.

Then, last year, Jack-a-lac, Jumpin' Jack Flash, my Jacqueline, became so sick. The doctor couldn't fix it, and we were forced to let her go or make her suffer. We let her go.

I don't think you understood that one. I think that one confused you greatly. I remember how you walked around the house, howling for her for days. I'm so sorry, baby kitty... I'm so sorry you had to know that in your last year with us...

And then, what feels to be my greatest betrayal of my best friend. The one you laid in bed with me during every illness. The one that stayed by my side many nights when grandma and grandpa were out late. The one that knew how terribly lonely I'd get. The sweet little kitty that would let me hold him so tight while I wept after my grandpa Clyde died, my grandpa Don, my cousin Tom, and finally my grandma Barbara. Your fur soaked up so many tears, it's a wonder you ever dried. The one that would come sleep in my bed whenever I had a bad dream and didn't want to be alone. The one that would share my turkey, my ham, my chicken, my tuna with a zealous delight. The one that would come to life whenever I came home, howling and meowing. The one that I know knew every word coming out of my mouth, understanding everything I said with perfect clarity.

The one I will always feel I betrayed.

You'd been sick for so long. For years. We dealt with it however we could, and managed fine. Until the last year. And I did some research and the vet did tests, even the expensive ones. Nothing. We couldn't stop the inevitable. You were slowly falling apart.

Your arthritis kept you from playing how you used to, and I knew when the days were bad, you had a hard time walking the stairs, and would asked to be picked up onto the chair or the couch, it hurt too much to jump. There was blood and mucus in your stools. You would vomit for no real reason. We changed your diet, but it only worked for six months... we changed it again, and this time it only worked for a month.

I patiently cleaned your messes, and held you tight even when you didn't smell so nice. I stood in the kitchen, cutting up turkey and chicken for you like a good mother ought. I didn't complain when you made a mess on yourself, I cleaned you up. I didn't yell at you when you didn't make it to the newspaper we laid out. I knew sometimes it was too far. I'd lose sleep just to let you in and out of my room all night long, because you wanted in, but then you'd need out. I tried so so had to never get angry, to never lose patience, because I knew this was it. I saw the sands getting low, I knew there wasn't much left. So I treasured everything. Every moment I had with you. Every meow, every cuddle, every time you'd accidentally nip my finger in excitement for the turkey or chicken I was sharing with you from my dinner.

I loved you. I love you.

Then after our move here, it was obvious that time was up. I knew it in my head but my heart would not accept it. It still doesn't.

The morning it happened, your grandma came in and woke me. She said it had to be done today. She made the appointment and if I wanted to be there I needed to come. When I asked why, when I asked why today, she told me how bad the night had been. Why didn't I wake, why wasn't I up with you? Why didn't I hold you the night before, and cuddle you like I usually did?

I dressed quickly and finished my crying in my room. I didn't want you to see me upset. I didn't want you to feel it. I knew you would. I called daddy, who loved you too so very much, and I told him what grandma said. He'd been asleep but he comforted me, he stayed awake to take my call after it happened. That's why you like him being daddy isn't it? You knew he'd be good to me, I'm sure that's why you approved him so wholeheartedly.

Your grandma started to cry, I snapped at her to stop it, to not stress you more than you were. She held together fairly well, but once we were in the vet, she fell to pieces.

The vet asked me so many questions. Do you want to be there when it happens, yes, of course. Do you want individual or mass cremation, I want my baby, I want him with me. Do you want a clipping of his fur, I, I don't know, I can't think, I don't know. Do you want a paw print of him most people like that, I don't know, I can't make these choices right now, I don't know, I don't know.

Then there were all of my questions. Will it hurt, the first shot might sting a little, but it'll put him in a euphoric state, he won't feel or think about anything, he'll be completely happy, it'll make him totally limp so you know. Is it fast, I want it to be fast, it's fast, very, almost as soon as I inject him it'll be over. Good. Good, I don't want it to be long. I don't want him to feel anything. Will he know I'm here, he might, we can't be sure.

The vet and his wife were there, they did it. She took a paw print and a hair clipping for me. She knew I needed that. I'll always be thankful she did.

The vet shaved a small patch on his back leg, Tiger was already sedated, his eyes barely moving or blinking, his breathing deep and heavy. He looked at me, "Are you ready?"

It was out of body, my had on Tiger's haunch, I looked up. "Waiting isn't going to make this hurt less."

He nodded, his wife squeezed my arm.

The needle went in, the breathing stopped. Just like that. Two seconds and it was over.

He listened for Tiger's heart, that heart that loved so much and was hurt so many times. He shook his head, eyes briefly closed. "He's gone."

I heard mom give this horrible moan of grief next to me.

I think I sobbed. Maybe I was silent. I don't remember. All I remember are the tears. The never ending flood of tears.

We stood there and talked to the vet for a long time. He'd put his own dog to sleep just last year, while his mother held him, crying her eyes out. He said it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

I hugged him, good and hard. I thanked him, over and over and over. He is a wonderful vet, he's treated my family with nothing but sympathy and compassion. He did everything in his power to save my baby boy. And in the end he made my kitty's passing quick and painless for him. For that I owe him more than words do justice.

We picked up Tiger's ashes last week. We put him to sleep on the 3rd. April he'd have been 13 years old. April and 13 haunt me more. April 13th is when my grandpa Don died of cancer. I was 13 when I lost my cousin and grandpa in the same year. We also left the carnival.

I didn't post any recent photos of Tiger because that's not how he should be remembered. He was so skinny towards the end. This is how I remember him. A big fat pumpkin kitty.

I waited to write this because this entry means a lot to me. This was my best friend, and my dearest companion. I've never in my life had a cat like him, and I never will again. I thought if I waited it'd also help with the tears. But I started crying after the first sentence and I still am. Big, heavy tears.

I will miss you with all my heart, Tiger, Tigger, Tig, Tigger Willy. You were my best friend. I will always love you.