I have always had a very spoiled life. I grew up having everything I could need and many things I wanted. I lived comfortably. I never had to worry about not having food, water, or power. I never had to worry about violence in my family's house or our community. If I am honest, I grew up very sheltered from the problems in the world. However, even though I had a very good life, it did not go without a problem. Throughout my life, I have had struggle after struggle. I remember my father re-entering the military when I was around 8. My grandmother came to live with my family as she struggled with lung cancer before dying from it the day before I turned nine. when I was 13, I came home after a middle school dance to be told my father would be deployed to Afghanistan that coming may. Then my eighth-grade year ( while my father was gone may I add), the world shut down around me as I, alongside every other person on earth, had to live through a worldwide pandemic. I came into high school not knowing how to function. I found out in my sophomore year that my aunt had cancer, and every memory of my grandma came flooding back. But I bounced back fast. In fact, my life got right back on track and was going great! I was doing good in school and in my activities. Before these last couple of weeks. One week and my life would be a mess. My father had been in Texas for a week at that point and with another week to go to welcome back his army unit from a deployment he had gotten out of. In one week, my family's dishwasher and oven stopped working (both ended up getting fixed), my mother's grandfather was in hospice and about to die, my mother's uncle was shot in the arm, and my father's aunt died. That was two weeks ago. Today, all of that was put to shame by the pain I felt. My cat had to be put down. His name was Tiger and he was alive for 23 years. My family had this cat for almost 9 years. for reference, I am only 17, which means we had this cat for 1/2 my life. Before we had him, he was my grandmother's cat. As she lay on her deathbed, she asked my father (her son) to take care of the cat. Tiger was the last thing of hers that I had and I loved him so. He was believed by my family to have had cancer and was rotting from the inside out and smelled of death, so if he was not put down, based on how he couldn't purr more than a few seconds before wheezing for air, he most likely would not have made it more than another week. He died more peacefully than he had been sleeping, but it still hurts to say goodbye. Yet that is what must be done. So goodbye tiger, you will always have a spot in my heart. However, hello to you new reader, there will be an adventure to come.
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