Category Archives: Truman’s Humans
Surely this is what people wonder when we show up at the Costco checkstand with industrial-strength sized packages of baby wipes, shop towels and glucosamine (which is actually for Truman).
Nope. Just raising some puppies.
I’m so behind this year that I sent out my Christmas cards late, and without my usual semi-snarky (but fun! come on!) Christmas letter. It’s a shame, really, because this year I actually had some significant goings-on to report (in the human department, that is…there always seems to be something four-leggedly significant happening in my home).
I had all sorts of grand plans for the format and the content, but I dare not give away my ideas…there’s always next year, when I will hopefully have my life a little more organized. Truly, the way things have been lately (which is to say, swirling around my head in a tornado of activity and circumstantial frenzy), I am most impressed we even got a card put together.
Merry Christmas, everybody. We hope and pray that 2010 will be as unbelievably blessed and joyous for you as 2009 has been for us.
Princess Tiger Lily “Tigger” Ackerman Fengler
May 20, 1989 – June 4, 2009
Tonight we celebrate the life of Tigger, who — having reached the impressive feline age of 20 — passed away peacefully at home, in her favorite basket, with her adoptive mom (me) and her biggest fan (Truman) by her side.
She lived a full and adventurous life, and was dearly loved by many.
Tigger’s many achievements included avid bird hunting, balcony napping, Labrador taunting, ceaseless purring, sofa jumping, ice cream begging, carpet piddling, high-decibel mrrrrRAYRRRing (as any of you who have spoken with me on the phone will attest), and the occasional surprise special guest appearance in my morning shower.
She and Truman shared more in common than either would probably like to admit. Both were accomplished “vocalists,” both were the proud recipients of battle-scar notches in their ears, and both had tails that were bent at the tip (Tigger’s was due to her having survived being hit by a car when she was a kitten). Though Truman never could get her to play with him on his own terms — not even when he dropped a toy or a bone in front of her face and waited with ears-up, tail-wagging expectation — Tigger did secretly enjoy playing her own special games, the most popular being “I will cross the room and go out of my way to walk three inches in front of your face as I know you are under ‘down-stay’ orders, ha HA.”
Tigger is survived by her humans in Arizona and California, her dog, and anyone else she may have considered staff at one time or another.
No doubt she is now making her first deposit at the Big Litter Box in the Sky. Or, more likely, just *outside* the Big Litter Box, on God’s freshly steam-cleaned living room carpet.
We’ll miss you, Tig.
Sure, at first he was a little jealous that nobody got HIM a fancy new ring, but then we gave him a cookie and he forgave us. At least he got to be there for the proposal, which was only fair, considering he WAS the chaperone for our first date. Also considering the fact that Truman actually prefers Wolf to me, I think the arrangement will be to his liking after all.
So now I have a full-time dog, the most excellent future husband in the history of man, and something sparkly for my leash hand: