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Oh, little grey cat,
come sit on my lap.
and snuggle like
my departed old
feline used to do.

Too independent
as cats tend to be,
maybe in time you
will perch on my lap
and purr contentedly.

Truth be told, your
affection shown is
way more about my
needs than yours.
Don't tell him, but
I actually admire his
independent ways and
the regal like dignity
that comes along with it.
We have become almost as one,
he reads my moods, knows when
I am not feeling well and shows
his concern.

Even in rest he keeps an eye on me.
As a shadow, he follows me.
From room to room, on outdoor
walks, by my side, content, alert.

When I return home, he is always
there standing sentry by the door,
greeting me excitedly not unlike a
human child on Christmas morn.  

He lives his life only to be close
to me. Sleeps peacefully all night
on his bed, right next to mine.
Loyal is inadequate to explain his
devotion.

Going on ten years of nearly 24/7
days a week companionship, he
understands most of what I say
to him, even my subtle hand gestures
of beckoning or command bring
his eager compliance.

Like me he has grown grey of muzzle
and brow, we are limping and aging
together now. He still has his moments
of Puppy like behavior, brief flashes of
his once inexhaustible abundant youth,
tempered now just as mine has too.

He loves me with his expressive brown
eyes and I see it plain as a sunrise of a
new day. His pace and behavior tell me
that our time together is growing short.
This reality does so pain my heart
If there is a God, does he or she send us
dogs to fill the space and companionship
of lost human love? I wonder and think
perhaps that is so.

For Tucker my going on ten-year-old Boxer
dog friend and companion.
Alone, depressed, in a hospital room bed,
when out in the hall appeared a little
well-dressed elderly woman pushing a
two wheeled cart, upon which set a large,
beautiful orchestral harp, it's burnished wood
gleaming and strings reflecting a golden light.

My door was open, and she paused in the
hall and sat on a stool and began to play.
A haunting classical piece I did not know.
When she was finished, I lightly clapped
my hands together, smiled in appreciation,
She asked, "Another perhaps?"
"Yes, Clair De Luane if you please"

She wheeled her harp a little into
my room. Settled herself and began to
play. After only a few cords the lovely
melody refrain reached deep into me,
and I began to unashamedly weep.

The frustrations of confinement, operation
pain and infection, along with the depressions
of aging and loss of my youthful capabilities
came pouring out.

That little lady, her magical harp and that tune
reached deep into my soul.  I was uplifted
and renewed.
Music in the hands of a master is a healing
tonic as strong as any medicine. Those few
brief minutes I shall never forget.

I learned that she was 83, had been a professional
Harpist and visited the large hospital two days a
week making her healing journey through the
halls shinning her musical light upon folks like
me, for no monetary pay, merely to share her gift
and uplift people in need. Any time I begin to doubt
my fellow humans, I am given a wakeup call reminder
that there are still many good unselfish people among us.

PS. I am home and on the mend.
I implore you not to judge
me by my failings of youth,
but by my humble good
deeds and achievements
acquired through the
wisdoms of maturity
gained.

Maturation is a process.
We are born into ignorance
and can but strive eventually
to overcome it.
In the cold dreary, wet,
months of each year the
predominant irritating
"Craw-craw" raucous
calls of crows are nearly
the only bird voices to be
heard. The instigators,
Provocateurs of disruption.

The logical, less hardy
and beautiful birds all
gone south for the winter,
taking their inoffensive
lovely and melodic song
voices with them.
I eagerly await their return.
Genus Corvus; crows and
ravens one of the most densely
populated birds in all regions
of the world. Scavengers that
can feed on anything and exist
anywhere. Even we humans
have bully "Crows" in our ranks.
Scavengers and opportunist too.
Listen not to them, wait for the
music of spring.
For most of my life
I yearned for the simple
independence of a feline
existence, a house cat
that spends more time
outside exploring and
roaming, then inside
snoring.

Preening and self-cleaning,
eating human food offerings
at will or not, everything on
my terms having my way with
the humans, they being such easy
creatures to bamboozle and train.

No matter how much I
ignore them, hiss or scratch
they treat me like some highly
revered object. A King perhaps?

Now that I am older and wiser
my feline ambitions have been
largely met. Being left mostly
alone with lots of cat naps, all
on my fully autonomous terms
and conditions. Roaming sparingly,
preferring the inside comforts of
home over the cold wet outside.

Please wake me if you have
any questions. But understand
I may not answer as I might be
napping. Or choose too merely
ignore you, as that is what cats
can and often do. And even at
times we humans may too.
Wisdom is knowing what you need
and what you don't need without
doubt or regret, with no requirement
to apologize to anyone for this hard
earned understanding with yourself.
Living only to please others
can become an overwhelming
burden, cherish those you love
with commitment and passion,
but do not make it a sacrifice of
your own soul. We all have only
one life to live.
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