Tiger was the first cat I remember having as “my” cat. He was a tabby cat, that dark gray ticked fur with black stripes. I don’t have an actual picture of him, but he was a pretty cool cat. He got in fights a lot. Back then, in the 1960’s, people didn’t get their pets spayed or neutered like they do today, so I imagine he was fighting over some female cat. Once, he got his leg torn up pretty bad in a fight, and my dad let him come in the house for a time, so that he could heal. Tiger was tough, and he was back to normal in no time.
What happened from that injury and recovery, was I got used to having Tiger in my room at night, and he got used to being in there, soooo, from then on, he was an indoor/outdoor cat. One night I went outside to call him in, because it was bedtime. I called and called, but he didn’t come right away. I kept calling, and then all of a sudden, he came around the corner of the house… and he had a bird in his mouth! I was so surprised I couldn’t move… and then he just devoured it in front of me, feet and all!
Yep, Tiger was a great cat, and I will hold onto my fond memories of him.