HarthPoetry

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My Cat

I was driving my cat

From New York to New Jersey

Just across the border

 

He usually meows and cries

A lot

On these mysterious trips

 

But this time he was silent

Quiet

Did not say anything

 

It was a short trip

Only lasting four minutes

Or so

 

Listening to “Running to Stand Still”

And “With or Without You”

While sticking my finger

Into my cat’s ‘kennel cab’

 

Still, my cat would not meow

Nor would he rub his face

Or body against my fingers

 

He was eerily silent

And I knew something was odd

Wrong

 

The music playing

No meowing

No touching

I knew my cat was dead

 

I felt happy and sad

He wanted to be with me

When he died

 

He tried so hard

His tired old body

Waiting to be with me

One last time

 

I was prepared

To end my trip in New Jersey

And take my cat

Out of the car

 

And cradle his soft

Not yet stiff

Body

In my arms

 

Looking up towards the sky

Embracing on of the rare beings

I will have ever loved.

 

 

 

 

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.12.20.22:40:00@505NJ