I stayed with a dear friend, Janet Williamson, on a recent trip to Los Angeles. Here I am with Janet and her long time large companion, Tiger- now 15 years old. He’s always been a rather portly gentleman with an even temperament. Janet’s son Gavin wrote the wonderful little piece about Tiger. (Gavin is now a college student in Santa Cruz and is a brilliant young man and a wonderful writer).
“Tiger isn’t a mob boss, but he could be – he’s a cat. Upside-down, on his back, legs in the air – his tail covering his shame, you’ll generally find him asleep in every tangible spot in the house simultaneously. When he sees you, he’ll pretend he doesn’t. He knows you’ll come to him. When you come you should have treats. While a gold Phantom is generally acceptable, you’d be well advised to come with vittles. Tiger thinks he’s Marlon Brando. Be aware! His palate is refined. Tuna is tolerated. Seaweed and cream are preferred. Despite his metrosexual tendencies, Tiger isn’t a Nancy and fights crime on a regular basis. After he houses your proffering deep inside his belly; you may approach to pet him. But know this: while Chuck Norris has cat-like reflexes, Tiger is a cat – and he’ll beat up Commies and criminals while working on his seventh doctorate, so he can mend injuries as he inflicts them – unless you’ve really made him mad.”
by Gavin Williamson
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