For a Dead Kitten
Put the rubber mouse away,
Pick the spools up from the floor—
What was velvet-shod and gay
Will not need them any more.
What was soft and warm, is cold—
Whence dissolved the little breath?
How could this small body hold
So immense a thing as death?
Pick the spools up from the floor—
What was velvet-shod and gay
Will not need them any more.
What was soft and warm, is cold—
Whence dissolved the little breath?
How could this small body hold
So immense a thing as death?
by Sara Henderson Hay from the book Reflections on the Gift of Watermelon Pickle...
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With no disrespect intended to our human dead and the many people who have died in service to our country, I have to say that this Memorial Day brings me to a smaller and more personal sorrow. Our 19 year old cat was in pain and having trouble breathing. The vet agreed it was time and we had him put to sleep last week.
Dodger, you were a good kitty. Named for the Artful Dodger, in your younger days, you knew how to steal a pen or other small object and turn it into a cat toy without getting caught. You were a talker and liked to give speeches and caterwaul at night from time to time. You lived with us in three different houses and remembered our son's childhood. You were a good friend to my husband and a loyal and gentle cat until the end. We miss you, buddy.
Dodger, you were a good kitty. Named for the Artful Dodger, in your younger days, you knew how to steal a pen or other small object and turn it into a cat toy without getting caught. You were a talker and liked to give speeches and caterwaul at night from time to time. You lived with us in three different houses and remembered our son's childhood. You were a good friend to my husband and a loyal and gentle cat until the end. We miss you, buddy.