Eulogy for a cat (poetry)
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the summer dies, the winter comes,
calling out each quiet moment,
what waits beyond? the shadowed corner,
but moving, hunting, she makes her way,
and then unto the [raspberry thicket|bushes thorny],
her prey is still, it does not flee her,
this, at last, does not elude her,
and curling, slowly, deep within it,
at last will sleep, returned to slumber,
and there to sleep and dream of fishes,
I had a [breaking the curse|really shitty fiance] at one point, and, at the beginning of the relationship, a massive grey cat with long fur and a singularly shitty and homicidal attitude towards everyone, including me, until I owned him. (At which point he fell in cat love with me - something like dog affections, except with more purring, sleeping on my chest, and following me everywhere.) Smokey and Scott took an instant dislike to each other - guess the cat could smell douchebags a mile away - and one day, Smokey simply vanished out of a third story apartment building with all the windows and doors closed while I was gone.
Scott wove me a story about cats sometimes taking a walk out when they know they're dying, finding [a safe place], and simply curling up and going to sleep. It's a poignant image, the cat leaving their owners, never to return, simply out of sight and out of mind, going to wherever they imagine the home is.
A few years later and remembering cruelty towards my other cats, I wonder now and again what really happened to Smokey. I pray sometimes, that he simply went to sleep somewhere; my suspicious mind, though, remembers him drenching [Anubis] in the shower for some piss-related offense, and the wariness of Misty whenever he came near. Neither was so violently defensive as Smokey (who left scars), but neither liked Scott very much either.
The thought of the cat trying to go home, though - that stuck with me.