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Catley | Ken Miller Guitars


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“Defective,” the vet said.
“Her spine is too short.”
As a kitten she struggled to walk
on trembling hind legs
but she grew stronger
and learned to run like a rabbit.

Shy and terrified of strangers
She ventured forth to join our jam sessions
and eventually forgot to be afraid of people
in the presence of bluegrass,
sometimes lying in the middle of our circle
to get the full effect.

For fifteen years she was our friend
greeted us at the door
announced when it was supper time
Raced circles around the house
after a tasty morsel.
Curled up on our bed on cold winter nights
purring and content.

Yesterday she made her final trip to the vet
Ravaged by age and disease
the vet agreed, not much could be done
and so gently and kindly gave her the shots
to end her suffering.

We placed her in a grave
Under the Japanese magnolia tree
This morning the first white iris had opened
beside her grave
And every spring she will speak to us again
in the blossoms of the Japanese magnolia tree.

Written by Virginia J. Miller