She’d passed on and was gone yet
I cannot forget that fine feline’s
assertive though gentle paws tapping
on my lips one morning, having
climbed up gracefully onto my
raised shoulder, sitting herself
down. She was hungry and bored,
not feeling like waiting longer
than my usual rising hour of a
few minutes before or past five
in the morning: “Friend, friend,”
she’d murr, “please get up and
feed me—be with me, please …”
So, after a minute or two, I’d get
up and she’d murr as I opened
a can of lavish Fancy Feast
for her; she’d then rub her hips
(i.e., scent gland areas) against
my calves. I, letting the water run
cold for her drinking bowl, would
look down at her as she’d eat her
special cat food and related to her:
“What would I do without you …?”