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 Page: Profile: Poetry   Total Views: 16,008,417  

Poem Specs

VxPoem ID: 44689


Posted: January 29th. 2014 10:46:06 PM

Views: 954

My Baby's Got Wings Now

by Rook

Age Group: Adult

My bundle of love and fluff;
I can't believe you're gone.
Never again will I hold you tight,
or feel your nose, cold, touch mine.
Never again will your lip
pull back to show fang as you
rub your face on < insert item here >.

I miss your purr, that
motorboat rumble from your
proud, feline chest.
You'll never have "insult tail"
again, or wear indignation in
your bright green/yellow eyes
because I called you a fat cat.

He may have starved you, but
I made certain you ate well every
day you were with me of your
life--I'm so sorry.
I miss the weight of you
when you laid on my back
as I slept; now, you sleep.

I miss my DM cat, as
you joined my role, sitting in
the throne of my lap as we played.
You used to roll funnily, hopped
on the 'nip, clinging large claws
onto the post and mowwing with
a laughing gurgle in your throat.

You always comforted me, and
I only wish I could have
soothed your fears--as you were torn
from me, and your life
from you--in the way I can only hold
my memories of you now, to comfort me.

Author's Notes: To read the complete post on my blog:

At the end of my wits, I had pleaded with the world at large for help to keep my two boys (my cats) in a SAFE place while I worked my hardest to find work in a new place so I wasn't living in a tent. My boy, Horace, needed a more secure lodging than I could give, and food I could not afford, and a caring hand I had but could not pay for...

A friend's friend offered fatal help. Instead of the caring foster I imagined, events turned out that the person starved my cats after throwing them outdoors. Two inside cats, who'd never been out. Horace, with chronic UTI issues, and Mooshie, who was so skittish and afraid. Horace finally perished, just day (s) before I had saved enough from my newly-held part-time job to get them with live animal traps, because they'd been left so alone they'd become a little wild.

My poor baby starved in a garage that that person locked him in, and my heart just broke when I was told. Not too long prior, I had a dream that I woke from, crying, of the first house Horace had lived in, where he was born and I saw him born. In the dream, his tail passed the door, and I saw and let him in. He came in, and I felt him in my arms, and he and I were so happy. I felt that. Surely, an angel brought his spirit to me one last time. I believe he came to me after he had finally died. He was only 8, almost 9 years of age. He was my cherished catchild, and I will always love and remember him.

This poem is for him.

Author's Location: Columbia, Missouri
More Poems: Rook has posted 61 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Rook - Click HERE
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