I had had my cat Tiggee from when I was four. She'd been with me through 10 tough years of divorce and just a bad streak in my life. She never ever left my side. She, as any cat, eventually became old.

On a Sunday night, last October, I walked into the kitchen, and I saw her. She was nothing like herself. We both knew, at that second, that her time left was dwindling.

It just so happened that Hurricane Matthew caused me to miss that whole week of school. I never left her. My mom denied it, but me and Tiggee knew that she was dying.

On Tuesday night, that same week, I sat on the phone with a close friend of mine. I told him how much Tiggee had helped me, and how I was in a better place only because of her. How many times she saved my life, etc. I recognized how she was going to pass, but also how I was now strong enough to live without her. She was next to me, purring, even though I knew it hurt her.

She died on Wednesday morning, the next day, but not before meowing goodbye to me and my mother.

I miss her every day.