When I was 10, maybe 11 we had a cat
A big old ginger tom
I don't think he ever saw a vet and he probably fathered hundreds of kittens
He hardly had any ears, they were so notched and torn, scars over his amber eyes
Anyway, our holiday fun was in the fields and woods
He would catch young rabbits and we would skin and gut them
Spit roast them over an open fire
Yes even at that age we could prepare a rabbit
After all we'd watched mother do it dozens of times
That old ginger tom always got his share
Come school time he would walk the mile and a half with us to the bus stop
And always meet us there when we came home
He was a flea bitten tick ridden scabby old thing
But he was family
1961 I joined the army and he saw me off at the door
That was the last time I ever saw that old boy