Tifa

Tifa started showing up in our backyard a few months ago. Right away, she made an impression. While the other cats kept their distance, she was always the first to appear and was very vocal constantly. Sitting calmly at our door, waiting for food. She didn’t just eat; she’d call the others over and let them share. That’s when my wife noticed something strange. She was missing most of her teeth. So my wife decided to start calling her Tifa. Teeth —> Teef —> Tifa.

She wasn’t just bold. She was hurting.

We could hear her breathing from several feet away --- harsh, rasping, impossible to ignore. It was not improving over time. It took days of quiet patience to earn her trust. When we finally got close enough to scoop her up, we headed straight to the vet.

Turns out, Tifa is over ten years old, toothless, and probably spent years surviving on instinct alone. And yet, she’s still gentle. Still generous. Still in charge.

She’s not just a visitor anymore.

She’s ours. She’s home.