Monday, March 27, 2006

Fritz: 2 Jan 1986 - 27 Mar 2006



I cannot sing for you, my cat:
my throat is poorly shaped for song
and words get stuck behind the plumb
that swings above my tongue. But then
your voice was rarely raised, my cat:
I thought you were a statue kept
beside the fridge, so scared to move
in case some two-leg freak returned
to bag you, bin you. Yet a cat
can overcome - you always sought
the sun to russet up your fur,
the warmth of quiet fuss: no need
to entertain your hosts, my cat,
by chasing ropes or catching birds;
just sit, and eat, and sometimes purr
when watching from the kitchen shelf.

5 comments:

  1. Rik, I'm sorry about your Fritz.

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  2. I'm so sorry hun.
    Eloise
    xxx

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  3. Hey, Rik. My husband and I buried his cat of 17 years last year. Literally. We buried her in the garden in the middle of the night. It's hard.

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  4. Julie, Eloise, Scavella - many thanks for your kind thoughts. I'll post some more on what we did with Fritz afterwards in the next day or so.

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  5. Aw. I'm sorry to hear about your cat. Sounds like she was a great one, and an important companion.

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