that he is not doing well,
Diego, thinning and sneezing,
on the decline compared
to a year ago—
yet he still hops up on
the kitchen counter and
plops himself in the sink,
watching the goings on
of a sleepy house after
midnight, watchkitty
surveying the kingdom.
Lately he has folded himself
into a cat-shaped loaf
atop the stove, right in
the center on the griddle,
a new spot to sleep.
What is going on with
you? I ask, as he blinks
his silent response,
knowing that we are
looking toward the end
with two older kitties,
not to mention the elder
humans in the family.
I am not ready for you
to go, I say, because I
never am, not for any
of the four-footed ones
who’ve shared their
goofiness with me,
nor for the two-footed
ones either. As if
I have a choice. As if
I could keep them
sinking, blinking,
watching over me
forever.
Güd wrtr 
What a fabulous title and delightful poem! Diego has that old cat look about him. I wish him well. Love, Amrita
Thanks, Amrita. “That old cat look about him” is exactly right. We appreciate your good wishes!
It is so hard when our dear, old animal friends lean toward leaving. With all my life experience, I look at our pup of 17 months and wonder … will she have a long life, or break my heart yet again? Love to you, Amrita
Oh my, Diego doesn’t look his best, but I think he’s hanging
As we all do, he has his better days and not-so good ones, but you’re right… he’s hanging in there!
Oh how can we ever be ready? I loved being in the kitchen watching Diego cozy up on the griddle. Loved the conversation of words and silent blinking and the tired face watching the narrator from the sink.
Thanks, Jan! I appreciate what was strong for you… yes, I often see that silent blink and tired face. But then he’ll perk up and look much better… as we do as we’re getting on down the road.