Remembering Tiger in the Garden

Sometimes I miss Tiger.

He was a gentle cat who used to wander quietly about the yard, stopping to drink from the birdbath,

smell the flowers,

and have a bite to eat.

Perhaps because I’d been preparing this post, he made an appearance in my dream last night (though it may have been the melatonin.)

For some reason I couldn’t remember, I hadn’t petted him lately. I apologized for ignoring him.

He forgave me.

It had been difficult the few months before he passed over the Rainbow Bridge. It was messy. He was no longer himself, crying – no howling – in the night and ready to go.

I was reminded not to remember the ending, but to remember the whole story, of this sweet boy, who did the best he could.

(A metaphor perhaps, the way with people too.)

Sweet dreams, Tiger. You were a good and fine cat.

~ Susanne