Tigger

My sister and I both got married in the fall of 1969. I lived in a tiny house with my beloved dog, Guzzy, daughter of Scruffy. Denece opted for an apartment and her very first cat, Tigger. Now Denece had tried many times over the years to bring a cat into our dog-only household, only to be met with Dad's words, "Dogs and cats don't mix!". For years, Daddy had bluffed us with that remark, and it was only after we moved out that we discovered he was a major cat lover. He and Mother had a cat when we were little. One that met with a tragic and untimely end. He was determined to protect his little girls from the possibility that the independent wandering spirit of a cat might repeat the experience and break our hearts, so he vehemently insisted, "Dogs and cats don't mix!" (Dogs being easier to confine and protect.)

Tigger was a smart-as-a-whip, mischievous-to-the-bone short-haired brown tabby. As soon as she was old enough, Denece decided to let her use the bathroom window to come and go as she pleased. She placed some of her husbands dirty socks, like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs, under their window so Tigger would know which apartment was hers.

Tigger used the window...and not just her own. Denece began finding strange little items that didn't belong in the apartment. An old dish scrubber on the bed. Some chewed-up sponges in the bathroom. An unfamiliar hand towel on the couch. Her husband denied any knowledge of these items, and Denece began to suspect Tigger was a thief. But what to do about it? She decided that since it was petty theft of mostly world-worn items, she would laugh it off. Until one day when she saw a splash of red in the window and caught Tigger bringing home a pair of ladies panties! Now this could pose a problem... she imagined the fight that might have ensued had she not witnessed Tigger's thievery first-hand. She still didn't know quite what to do until her husband asked her later that week if she knew what had happened to all his underwear. Tigger wasn't a thief- she was an exchanger!

Now this was serious! She began to imagine that couples all over the apartment complex were fighting over the appearance of strange underwear in their apartment. So she gathered up the items that Tigger had stolen and sheepishly went to each apartment door, asking if any of these items were theirs, and had they seen her husband's underwear, hoping to ward off any repercussions from Tigger's kleptomania. Everyone had a good laugh, and Tigger was grounded.

Not, however, before she had become pregnant. When her delivery time came, Tigger stealthily sought out a good hiding place to have her kittens. She started by going under the cabinets in the kitchen, pulled her kitten-heavy body up and up and up, then made a sharp turn to the left and found the perfect hiding place- or so she thought. There was even a nice soft towel to lay on. When Denece heard the mewing of the kittens, she just opened the top drawer in the kitchen, and there was Tigger and 6 little babies!

I chose P.J., an adorable little male who was the spitting image of his Mom. I took him home to meet Guzzy, Dad's words ringing in my ears, "Dogs and cats don't mix!" I cautiously introduced them and Dad's theory was busted. They were inseparable companions for the next 15 years! Well, as inseparable as an earth-bound little wiry sproodle dog can be to a tree-climbing, fence-scaling, roof-top-jumping, airborne-whenever-possible tabby cat who is smart-as-a-whip and mischievous to the bone. But well, that's another story...

Copyright © Terece Lewis, 2001