Strange name for a cat, I know.
She had the drawings and
Attitude of one.

The fact that she preferred to
Be left alone most times made
Her my little best friend.

Four years ago she fit in the palm
Of my hand. The last time I held
Her, only her head did.

No more pain free
Cures for what bothered her,
And yesterday no little black dot

Came bouncing across the field
At the sound of my car.
No tip of a tail dancing hungrily

Outside the glass door when I
Left this morning. Funny how
Two sleeping kilos can

Form such a presence in a room,
And their absence the same.
Caught myself about to fill her

Bowl when I got up, then told
Myself to man up and swallow
That lump in my throat

That I hadn't felt from the loss
Of an animal friend in
Decades.

It felt big enough to fit in
The palm of
My hand.