Dearest Max

Dearest Max,
You are old beyond cat years;
born in a monsoon last century,
once a silly kitten
dressed in bonnets
and frilly smocks, you forbore
the love of a little girl.

Then you became
the great blue hunter
vanishing in dappled light
between the orchids
and the rubber trees
stalking parrots and skinks.

Then a plane flight
to the southern parts
where you claimed
your territory and learned
the wiles of urban alley cats
fighting bravely
for your stake.

Now you sleep contently,
find the sunny spots
when the days grow shorter,
and snuggle in soft laps
on long cold nights.

You need arthritis shots
and steps to climb
to reach your favourite couch;
you still show flashes
of your intuition,
I wish you would last forever.

Max stretching his toes

NaPoWriMo #18

Jingle Pot Luck Monday


16 thoughts on “Dearest Max

  1. I want my next cat to outlive me
    And when I die
    She can find a shovel
    And she can dig the hole
    And she can say the prayer
    And she can recite the memories
    And she can cry the tears
    And she can scatter the sage
    And she can backfill the grave
    And when this harrowing day is done
    I hope she finds a sunny spot
    And takes a long nap.

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