I'll Never Be Ready to Say Goodbye

Rosemary, basil, and lemon muffins

with a lavender latte with whipped cream:

my decadent treats to start the morning.

My old gray cat nestles under my arm;

he sleeps as I drink my latte and watch

the ripples and waves of the blue-green lake.

The wind rustles the branches and green leaves.

Young sunflowers turn to face the bright sun.

Heliotropism: when flowers seek out

the sun, and if they can't find it, they face

each other. They'll look for the brightest source.

| ᓚᘏᗢ |

I rub behind my cat's ears; his eyes close.

The cat came into my life years ago.

Ten years to be exact. I almost lost

him last year when out of the blue he had

a urinary blockage. He spent days

at the vet's office when he was sickly.

At first, they thought it was stress, so they gave

him drugs to relax him, but this didn't work.

Then they put my cat on a catheter

to empty his very full bladder. But

this did not solve his issue, so he was

put on a second catheter, and it

did not work either. X-rays revealed bad

news: he had tiny stones in his bladder.

| ᓚᘏᗢ |

The emergency vet took care of him

over the weekend. My husband and I

would call the receptionist so we could

leave messages for our cat. We missed him

greatly while he was given care. We love

him because he is our comfort, our kid

when we have none, our sunshine after rain,

and our joyful greeter in the morning.

His surgery was on Monday; it was

successful. He spent weeks in the bathroom

recovering. I hand-fed him his pills,

I gave him new bedding every morning—

he would make a mess in the bathroom since

he struggled to get in his litter box

with a cone on his head. He'd jump into

the box and scoop the litter with the cone

flinging it everywhere. I'd escort him

to our master shower, while I cleaned his

bathroom with a shop vac. Every little

clump would get sucked up, I would wash and dry

surfaces, then I'd put fresh clean towels

on the floor. I would lead him from the hall

to his bathroom where he'd sleep for the day.

For meals, he received small bowls of wet food.

Between lunch and dinner, I'd visit him.

I would sit in the bathtub, and pet him.

He purred and slept in my lap. I'd tell him

how much I loved him. I cried that whole month.

I cried while playing Enya in my car—

I played Enya on the way to the vet.

I prayed and cried during his surgery.

I felt bad while he stayed in the bathroom

to recover. His medicine schedule

was at odd hours: I gave him medicines

at 6:00AM, 10:00AM, 6:00PM,

and 2:00AM. It was a rough schedule.

| ᓚᘏᗢ |

I didn't care how much it'd cost to save him.

His vet bills cost me thousands of dollars.

I'm happy he made a recovery.

He often finds me sitting in a chair;

he'll invite himself to sit on my lap.

He'll purr loudly and stare sweetly at me.

He loves to play with his toys. He'll meow

and meow and meow when he carries,

in his mouth, one of his favored toy mice.

I'll never be ready to say goodbye.