Silken fur, soft and warm, slips smooth beneath my fingers

Long-gone now, but down the years, this memory always lingers

Whiskers on my cheek, wake me, startled, from my sleep

So many, many cherished moments, this one I will keep.

Ping-pong balls, fish on strings, and a battered catnip mouse

Baby assassins honing skills spread laughter through my house

Feathers and leaves, mice and birds, a rat, maybe a rabbit

Trophy collection growing, until age and sloth erode the habit.

Sun shines though uncounted pinpricks, riddling my lounge curtain

Where tiny paws, with tiny claws, learnt to climb, so uncertain

My favourite armchair, past its best, tattered and torn because

Mighty hunters prowl these halls, and find no trees to sharpen claws.

On winter’s nights ferocious killer forgoes these ruthless ways

Curls up, kneading my poor knee, and there, contented plays

A plaintive cry beside my bed, seeks shelter from the storm

Then cold wet fur, and ecstatic purr, curl up on someone warm.

They gambol happily through my life, creatures of the wild, untamed

and in their careless, carefree wake, casual chaos reigns

But when, too soon, their span is done, each one as they depart

Carves tiny scars upon my soul, and pawprints on my heart.

So sorry to hear about Purrdy.  Even when you know you are making the right decision it is very, very difficult.

Kathryn