She survived cancer. Survived a coyote attack. Hiked mountains like she owned the lease. Even when her body was fading – half-blind, mostly deaf, breathing hard – Tigger was still calling the shots. Tigger came into our life looking like a mop that had lost a knife fight. Street dog. Flea motel. Three abscesses. One working eye. Zero chill. But damn, did she know how to live. Last week, we said goodbye. But her story? It’s not done with us yet. Tigger proved you don’t need perfect to live big. Sometimes, you just have to drag your raggedy self onto the trail. Show up scrappy. Chase the wild thing. And make some noise while you’re at it. And when you go? Leave the trail better than you found it. We miss you, Tigs. Thanks for showing us how it’s done.