I have been privileged to share a home with numerous cats over the years. Some were cuter than Tiger, some more cuddly and lovable, but none touched his natural elegance. I've never known any creature or any person as elegant as he.
Before he came to live with my children and me, he was a feral cat, abandoned quite a while ago by an unfeeling family. He lived in the woods behind our complex and was occasionally fed or taken in out of the rain by the family of my daughter's friend until they moved. Miranda asked if we could look after him as they had, and I agreed. But within a day or two it was clear we were not going to have a casual arrangement with Tiger. We adopted him, and he became a full-fledged member of our family, but he forever remained an outdoor cat. He slept inside, ate inside, but he had to go out every day for at least a while and sometimes for a couple days before returning. He was no longer hungry and in need of the birds, mice and bunnies from the woods as nourishment, but by then the hunt was in his blood. He would bring the poor dead creatures home intact to lay before my appreciative feet. I learned the art of picking the lifeless little corpses up with newspaper and carrying them to the dumpster when he was not looking :-) I was not about to insult him.
The cat in the picture does not do Tiger justice - he was longer and leaner and far more regal.

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