Such a mangy little cat
With horrible habits and
A mediocre personality
With eyes always watching
And ready to run from
The hands that fed him.
He was completely untrustworthy
And even malicious at this
Lurking along in our lives
For 18 years. The memory
Of great cats did not deter
Him from his feral ways
Of isolation and caterwauling
As though he was never sure
If food would come along
Without his constant badgering.
But, he was a common thread
For the three of us and each
Of us in his or her own way
Did love him and did appreciate
His weird sort of affection and
Certainly his amazing longevity
And perseverance, if not his lassitude.
He was an element of who we
Are and now he'’s in the black
Plastic bag waiting to be buried
Beside the holly bushes.
In the end, this little cat taught
A message that will long outlast
His shabby little visage.
He taught how important
Life is to even the least of all,
His tenacity to hang on,
And then he taught how far
More important we are
To each other than anything
Else; no mistake, no argument,
Nothing can ever be more
Important than each other.
So, in the end, we go on,
Far better off for Winston,
Loving each other a little
Less for granted, and
More aware of the precious
Passing moments that
Never come again.

04/04/2002

Posted on 12/27/2005
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