Sir Felix (For my lovely fat cat).

Black and white

A ball of black and white

Shoved in the back of a tiny cat carrier

(This is the first thing I remember about you).

I remember reaching in and pulling you out

I remember seeing your six toes

I knew I had to have you.

The day we lost you

Then found you sick--

bleeding, hurt, marled.

I still remember how terrified I was

How it shook through my bones

Like an earthquake.

I remember the day we brought you back home

One less tooth

Still my baby.

I think about all this as you lay across my feet,

vibrating the bed with your thunderous purrs.

All I have to do is look at you and you start.

You've been here, seen it all.

You've seen us through all pets--

the 2 dogs, the 3 more cats.

You've been here, you've accepted.

Ten years, or is it really eleven?

Eleven years and

Still my baby.

I think about all this as you saunter your

body up the bed to my face,

As you lay next to me taking up the

rest of the bed.

I fear what lies ahead

how many more pets you'll see us through.

But you--what do you fear?

(Besides strangers, and loud noises, and my guitar "playing").

You do not fear the Future.

You instead remind me, as I scratch your

chin, your face, behind your ears,

down your back, up your tail;

You remind me as you reach out with your big paw toward my hand;

You remind me as you lick my fingers with your sandpaper tongue,

rough yet somehow gentle;

You remind me, Sir Felix,

to just appreciate the moment.

(And for that I love you most.)