“Tigger passed first. He was my cuddle baby—always tucked against my side, always reaching for affection. When he started hiding under the bed, I knew something was wrong. Then I saw the swelling on his back leg. We bought an animal stroller so I could still take him everywhere without jostling him. The cancer spread fast—faster than I could keep up with. We moved forward with surgery to remove the leg. He made it through the operation… but he never woke up. I was devastated. He wasn’t just a pet—he was my comfort, my shadow, my baby. 

Jinx and Wick had always been my constants when I was home—cuddly, loyal, always close. After Tigger passed, they stayed even closer. Jinx grew quiet and tucked herself into soft corners like she was waiting. Wick barely left my side, his usual calm now shadowed by a low, restless energy. The three of them had always been my little trio. Losing Tigger felt like something had come undone—not just in the house, but in me.”