My pajama pants were definitely too tight back then – a common issue for a nine-year-old hitting a growth spurt. I remember clearly that my pants were too short because Tiggy managed to scratch me and draw blood one morning.
She had warned me before. The last time I was late feeding her, she growled so fiercely that if she were human, her message would have been crystal clear: cross me again, and you’ll regret it.
Tiggy was always true to her word, setting strict boundaries we dared not cross. We couldn’t pick her up or even think about making her sit on our laps. If we opened a drawer and let her snuggle into a school jumper, she might let us pet her for a bit. That was, as long as we didn’t disturb her while she busily tore the sleeves to shreds.
Having Tiggy as my first pet, I was disappointed by her dislike for human touch. I had hoped she’d be as cuddly as the cats my friends had or as playful as the adorable characters in The Aristocats movie.
But if Tiggy resembled any cartoon character, it would be Tom from Tom and Jerry, especially with her relentless passion for chasing mice. She was much more successful, too, often leaving behind the remains of mice and birds on our living room rug as her trophies.
Other cat owners claimed this was her way of showing love, bringing us these “gifts” from her hunts. I was convinced, though, it was just her method of intimidating my younger brother and me, especially when she’d drop these gruesome presents right as we were about to watch TV.
I can’t say I was very fond of this fierce little predator, but as I grew older, I began to respect the independent life she led. While I had to be home early from dances and parties, Tiggy roamed freely at night, living her best life in her later years. And unlike me, she was never accused by my parents of “treating this house like a hotel.”
More so, Tiggy didn’t seem bothered about fitting in or what others thought of her. She maintained a cool distance from any other cats that ventured into our garden. Unlike my anxious and eager-to-please self, she seemed content and self-assured. And while I faced bullies at school and on the dance floor, I was pretty sure Tiggy could handle any threat with a confidence I could only wish for. After all, Tiggy had claws, and she wasn’t afraid to use them.