# 15 - Tiga, A grumpy, old & fluffy teacher.
This article discusses
Short poetry about Tiga
More-detailed-story
Tiga - her gifts and lessons
Grief and loss of an animal
Tell me about you
One year ago, I said goodbye to a quiet teacher.
A grumpy, old and fluffy teacher.
Tiga.
A grumpy and fluffy soul who brought a soft kind of love into my life.
The kind of love that curls up beside you and teaches you how to:
- Slow down
- Be present
- Be.
She was with me for only a few months, but what she taught in that short time was profound:
- The art of pausing.
- The beauty of the Now.
- The sacredness of stillness.
Tiga’s life on Earth was long.
Her time by my side, so short.
Like a shooting star:
- Brief,
- Bright,
- Unforgettable.
To anyone grieving a companion, may you feel their presence in the quiet moments.
Tiga, you were so deeply loved.
You are so deeply missed.
You can read a more detailed story about Tiga below
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Hello beautiful people,
This article is a little different. I’m currently in France, in my hometown. While studying ecotherapy, preparing classes, and reflecting on the readings, I received a painful phone call.
Tiga, our beloved family cat, passed away a week ago.
I left Australia on a Thursday. She passed on Sunday night. Just a few days after I left.
She was 19 and a half-years-old.
Tiga was once a farm cat, and in her later years, we gave her the gift of retirement in our townhouse. She loved it. She rested often, moved slowly, and soaked up the sun through the windows. She did not want to get out much anymore. She was simply enjoying the sunshine and staying indoors.
She followed me everywhere—into rooms, onto couches, beside my laptop as I worked. She was there when I studied. She sat beside me in silence as I prepared workshops on grief and loss. And now, it’s my turn to grieve.
Tiga’s purring sounded like a pigeon—so strange, so funny, so unique.
She was tiny, soft, and so gentle. Though almost 20, she looked like a kitten.
She had six babies in her lifetime. She outlived them all.
And now, she is gone too.
She died curled up like a snail on her favourite couch, the one facing the window where she used to watch kangaroos, sheep, birds, and the wind playing in the strawberry fields. Her window was her television. She didn’t care much for going out, she just loved to see.
Tiga entered my life in August 2023, right after my retreat with my ecotherapy mentors. The timing was perfect. She moved through winter with me in our warm Adelaide Hills home. She lay beside me for hours while I read about grief. Now those same teachings are flowing through me—not as theory, but as lived experience.
She taught me to slow down.
To Be.
To observe.
To stay still long enough to feel.
She showed me that I was enough, just as I was. That softness is strength. That presence is everything.
She was nature’s wisdom in feline form. It was like a quiet, non-judgmental being full of love. She held me in ways words never could.
I often lie next to her, my big human head next to her tiny cat face. It brought me such calm. Such quiet. Just the two of us on that couch—nothing more needed.
She was family.
And now, I am grieving.
I know ecotherapy and writing will help me make sense of this loss in time. But for now, I’m just sitting in the ache. There is nothing to add. Just to feel.
Tell me about you.
How do you connect with the animal world?
How have you experienced grief after the loss of a pet?
What have your beloved animals taught you?
I’m sending you pure and gentle love, full of light and warmth.
Take care of your whole self, each other, and the wild world around and within you.
With nature’s guidance,
Sarah from Sarah Frustié Therapy
Written 30/06/2024
Published 26/06/2025
