My heart yearns for her to live the longest of days,
I pine to have her a year longer.
My sweet Missy,
The one I have guided through youth and the one I will guide through her final most fragile days.

I can see the light in her eyes grow dim with dull torpor.
I can feel the sluggish sense of enervation in her spirit,
yet at every chance I get,
I plead to god for another hour,
Another day,
Another month,
Another year.

I know that the final countdown is set.
The air is filled with the slightest tinge of melancholy.
And with every weary glance,
Our eyes meet one another.
And with every placid breath
Words that only a dog and its owner can understand are spoken.

Yet as the days grow dull and the air runs thin,
New life is approaching.
As the spring flowers bloom.
And if she is to depart soon,
Hopefully, she may be reborn into a new life.
And her soul and breath will take in renewed unsullied life energy.

And maybe we will meet again.

They say that with death comes life,
And I've come to accept that we may not have much time together on this earth.
But maybe,
just maybe,

we will meet again.

While walking through a wintry town
of weavers’ crackerbox houses of stone,
all with carved shutters and panes of wood,
I noticed I was far from alone.

A tabby cat sat on a sill
and looked at me with wet jade eyes.
I asked her what she for Christmas wills,
what sandy claws might bring as a prize.

She winked a blink as slow as tar
and gave me a sideways smile.
All she wanted was a door ajar
to sneak into with all her wiles.

Why yes, I opened the door for her,
and scarcely had she gone inside
that she returned with a satisfied purr
and said that she’d changed her mind.

This cat will do as she may please —
She’s a feline, fickle as a winter breeze.

Had a chat with my cat.
Now how about that?
She spoke with a twitch of whisker
and slow blinked her eyes to whisper
that she’s feeling quite content
to be in this moment.
For though she’s told me her life story
of all the times she’s been crowned in glory
by defeating her toy mice —
which is really not a vice —
it’s in the here and now
with no sweat upon her brow
that she’s glad to becuddle me
and from worry be wild and free.
Watch her fur belly rise and fall
and her purr keeps me in her thrall
as I scratch her fluffy chin
and feel peace spread within.

I carry you in my heart;
in my head; in my bones.
I would have carried you to the earth's end,
but now, you are simply mulch.

I wonder if my cat knows
she’s helped me keep going
a few times
by just choosing to sit in my lap

I miss you every day
Your personality and your face
The way you'd greet me after being away
only momentarily
How you made me feel just after I wake
The weird ways you would lay
Your cheeky smile and how we would play
You changed my life in unquantifiable ways
Gave me a reason to make effort
and build on myself to be better
I hate how we parted in haste
Filled with hostility, upset, lacking grace
I replay it, and wish it was different
But I know it's something I can't change
And that's okay
Because I know you're doing well
Looking after yourself
Bringing joy to the world
Still being who you are with no filter
I keep your photos up to remember
I'll love you forever...

Had to call him Ziggy
It fit so well
Just a coincidence
I quite like
David Bowie

Wouldn't describe him as affectionate
A fuss when home from work
Then off to an empty room
"I want to be alone"

Now I'm put off by needy things
In the end they repel me
So Ziggy has the psychological
Upper hand on me
I'm needy for his affection

Ziggy the strange dog
When having a poo
Looks like a frog

Wish I could say
It's just me
But every day
Someone makes a comment
"He's a handsome boy"
"Where did you get him from"
"Wow, he can jump"

Now I stand in Ziggy's shadow
Someone asked another
"Do you know Nick?"
"Oh yeah,  it's Ziggy's dad!"