Mourning Delilah

What the hell, cat??

You were fine! You went in to get one tumor removed!

No one expected the poor vet to come out

With a tennis-ball-sized handful of evil

And the words “organs are riddled.”

So your human had to let you go.

You knew. And you didn’t tell us.

Now, looking back,

We can see how you thought about bolting

Rather than go to the appointment

And how you refused to take the muscle relaxant

And bit your human in defiance,

Which was your final “fuck you.”

You were not an easy cat to live with, you know.

Your human still bears scars, will do so forever,

But the scars you put on her heart,

Marked her as your territory, never to be replaced,

Those are impossible to salve.

You broke her, my dear.

You did what DOGE taking her career,

Her first husband trying to take her life,

And her second husband trying to destroy her psyche,

Couldn’t do.

You yourself survived the second husband,

Fighting to own you, then promising to dump you at a kill shelter.

Good riddance to a fine coprolite specimen.

You saved each other, you and your real human,

Fled with each other,

Fought scorpion invasions together,

But you no sharez – so you demanded All The Churu.

Fine, I get it, you little chaos furball.

Tortitude for miles, the emotional goblin was strong in you.

Your human is slowly picking up the pieces.

We can’t find you.

I have two cat ghosts I’ve picked up along the way,

But there’s a shredded hole in the web of our lives

Where you used to sit on her project, daring her to try.

Go on. Try retrieving it. Blood will be spilled.

And was.

We think you’re “enkittening,” so you can torture her again.

Yes, we’re keeping an eye on shelters.

But even if you don’t return, we will carry on.

Your blankets, cat trees, and uneaten supplies

Have already been donated to a no-kill shelter.

A tiger kitten has claimed your favorite spot in your tallest cat tree.

But the house is empty, so empty.

She has nothing to come home to – it’s just stuff.

Very few things bring her ephemeral joy.

I’ve lost my chaotic evil muse,

A trilogy of stories that may never be fulfilled.

Maybe I should write you a fierce ending,

One where you go down in a blaze of glory

Instead of ignominious death due to cancer. Because FUCK CANCER.

Hail the traveler, or should I say beware?

You likely marched right past Bast

And cornered Sekhmet

And shredded her ears for such a piss-poor entrance to Valhowla.

Most humans suck. Cats are forever.

We will search, your human and I,

But even if we don’t find you,

Whether it be in our dreams, or on the breeze, or in one of the nine lives,

We await the turn of the wheel

Of the Cat Distribution System,

Because we know

One is on the way

To chomp on your human once more.