Last night I farewelled my beloved friend of 18 years. Tigger Poojumy Schnoogum Pham was buried at 10.30am this morning. Dad Pham burned incense for her and said a prayer for her sweet, little soul.

She'd lost her appetite last week and had started sleeping outdoors instead of inside the house like she normally does. I thought she wanted to pass away under the house, which is her favourite hiding spot and playground because nobody could reach her there. But Saturday night, she went into a little storeroom inside our house and there she fell asleep forever.

Tigger's always had a strange fascination with the storeroom. She was restless whenever we closed the door and would sit by it until we opened it again - even though she never went in - so we've kept the storeroom door ajar for the past 15 years. Now that she's passed away in there, I'll never be able to bring myself to close the door. Little jerk is still bossing me around from beyond the grave.

Tigger enjoyed a nice, long life of reigning supreme over her humans; eating our food; strutting around the house like she owned the place because she did; defending her territory against the many other furballs on our street; coming and going as she pleased and sleeping anywhere she damn well pleased too. She was kind of a snob to everyone, but the sweetest, cuddliest, most loyal kitty to Little Sissy Pham and I.

My fondest memory of Tigger is when Mum Pham was on her deathbed and the anti-social brat, who always hid when anyone not from her inner circle was around, walked through a crowded room to sit by my side.

Thanks for being the best furry friend two girls could ever ask for, Tigger. We'll miss you dearly.

Love always, your humans.