Tiger Lily joined us, due to the efforts of my friend Jane, in February of 2017 (I just checked the date). Jane expertly negotiated so that our cat Belle, who did not like living with the other cats, moved in with another woman who wanted a single cat, and then TL moved in when her owner had to give her up. She was supposed to pay rent and never did (how does a cat pay rent anyway?)
I just found my first text from the person who had been fostering her:
TL also liked a challenge, so she decided Patrick was "her" person. She would come sit next to me as I worked or snuggle in bed, but the minute Patrick climbed under the covers she left me behind and went to his side, drooling with happiness as she went.
She had very little patience with Mimi, who she called "the fat one," but Dandelion was her best cat friend.
When we took the dogs over to Summit in the summer, she loved having full run of the house. But she made sure that we knew the 2F and 3F were her domain.
She had *opinions*, but one of them was that she was intensely loyal and loving to her family.
We never found out how old Tiger Lily was, but earlier this summer she started losing weight. So, like the princess she was, we put her on wet food. That did not keep her from scooping the dry food out of the bowl with her paw so she could eat it off the floor, or insisting we leave the tub faucet trickling water because she thought the cat fountain was stupid.
In the last week, though, she stopped eating even the stinky wet food. She lost all her weight basically overnight. She was ready to go, and we spent hours just sitting with her. On the hottest day of the week, Patrick, who hates heat, came over to Ashland (where there is no AC) to spend the night with her. Last night she lay on the couch between us watching "Only Murders In the Building" with us.
I used to call us a "low rent petting zoo" with 3 dogs and 3 cats. 2022 has been a beast of a year, and now we're down to 1 cat.
There's a big hole in my heart.