A Dish Lonely

A dish lonely for its keeper
Stares up at me.  Its circle wide,
With vivid hues and facets fired
In far-off lands of old, the pride

Of the discerning feline's taste.
Adored of a fervor not known,
Each morn receiving more earnest
Kisses than any royal throne.

An object of keen scrutiny,
That dish, a gaze of fix direct
Noting any slight change at all
Day long, its keeper to inspect.

'Tis true, she haunted its corner
With a fidelity unsworn
In the strongest oaths under sky.
Never ever left it forlorn,

'Til now.  Mighty though be feline
Will, there are greater forces yet
At work, as its keeper was called
Afield.  Beyond all sunnings set.

I sigh, then, and do what I must
Each eve, heaping the dish lonely
High, for a new keeper to find
And make that hers, one and only.

© Jeff Stilwell 2012

Remembering Cleo

Our rambunctious and affectionate cat Cleo passed this morning.

There is something that touches us all in the passing of a loved one.  In this case, she died with me cradling her head in my hand.

In fact, nothing quite captures our relationship with Cleo as her passing.  For Cleo was the most generous of all cats I have known.  She was the most eager to meet us halfway in our differing needs.  Indeed, if humans and animals can communicate at all, Cleo taught me the most in how to go about it.

Case in point, as Manya and I both realized at pretty much the same moment that today was the day, we huddled around her on the kitchen floor trying to comfort her.

She had much to say on this subject...

Cleo:  Howl!  (Transl: Stop petting me!)
Us:  Sorry!  (Cleo then went back to purring, if with increasingly shorter and shorter breaths.)

Cleo:  Howl!  (Transl: Where did Manya go?!)
Us:  Sorry!  (Whereupon, Manya quickly returned and gently rested her hand on Cleo's back.  Cleo then went back to her labored purring.)

I, for my part, was still cupping her head in my hands.  For well over two hours.  In fact, once when I needed to ease a leg that was cramping, we had this surreal conversation...

Cleo:  Howl!
Me:  For crying out loud!  I've been sitting here for two hours.  Cut me some slack!
(After I had adjusted my leg, Cleo went back to her purring.)

At the moment she passed, there we still were, precisely where she demanded we be - in the litter she had insisted we create within our home.

My god, I will miss her.