He made his first appearance in October of 1928 when he announced himself with a roar, or actually a Worraworraworraworraworra, and the world would never be the same. I speak, of course, of that wonderful bouncy, bouncy thing whose top is made out of rubber, whose bottom is made out of springs.
Tigger. Friend of Pooh, lover of everything except honey, haycorns and thistles, largely because thistles have bees and bees sting. Coincidentally, bees are also involved in honey, though I think that’s where the similarity ends. Turns out that Tiggers only like extract of malt. For some reason, Tigger was always one of my favorite Pooh characters. He was one of a kind, gregarious, fun-loving, cheerful, a little dim to be sure, but also a stuffed toy who simply celebrated life. When I was first introduced to The House at Pooh Corner, and Tigger in Chapter 2, I was hooked. I remain so.

Pooh and Tigger, as drawn by Ernest Shepard
Perhaps it has something to do with his bounce. It’s joyous, contagious. Perhaps his love of malt extract, something that Kanga gave Roo (see TH@PC, Chapter 2) as his strengthening medicine. Fascinating, and also understandable. During the first years of the 20th century, British children of the working-class were often given malt to help make up for a deficiency in vitamins and minerals. They were also given cod liver oil so I’m not sure how strengthening it actually was.
I do know that malt extract is also use to brew beer, its sweet taste taking the edge off of what can be slightly bitter. It primarily occurs with barley and is eventually cooked to a high enough temperature that it forms something called wort, which is the sugary liquid syrup that will ultimately be fermented to create beer. Makes me wonder why a mother gave it to her baby. It also makes me wonder why Roo’s name is Roo when a baby kangaroo is called joey. I guess it has something to do with a Kangajoey not making as much sense.
Perhaps my love of all things Tigger also influenced a crush I had in college on a frat guy from SAE. His name was Brian but everyone called him Tigger largely because he bounced a bit when he walked and when he entered the room, he was the center of attention. I don’t remember his last name. I do remember that when we finally had an opportunity to get together, he was a jerk. I could have let him tarnish the Tigger mantra, but I refused. I left that one particular frat party with my dignity and my love of the original Tigger in tact.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve continued my love affair with the orange and black furry creature created by A. A. Milne. I think now it’s because of something much more profound and yet simple: his ability to keep bouncing through life regardless of what circumstance presents itself.
“Excuse me a moment, but there’s something climbing up your table,” and with one loud Worraworraworraworraworra he jumped at the end of the tablecloth, pulled it to the ground, wrapped himself up in it three times, rolled to the other end of the room, and, after a terrible struggle, got his head into the daylight again, and said cheerfully: “Have I won?”
“That’s my tablecloth,” said Pooh, as he began to unwind Tigger.
“I wondered what it was,” said Tigger.
“It goes on the table and you put things on it.”
“Then why did it try to bite me when I wasn’t looking?”
“I don’t think it did,” said Pooh.
“It tried,” said Tigger, “but I was too quick for it.”
From The House at Pooh Corner, Chapter 2
That’s the Tigger effect. Being too quick for the things that are trying to get you, always being ready, always being positive about what’s happening regardless of what that may be. I think it’s how I’ve long lived my life. I know it’s how I live it now. It’s how I plan to remain in the future.

Tigger, on a mailbox, today in the OP
And to think, I owe it all to a stuffed-animal character from a beloved children’s book.