This is a poem I wrote in September, a few weeks after I had to euthanise my cat, Bella.  She had been getting more and more ill since December last year, and we had done many tests and tried many different things, but she was still sick and the vet couldn’t figure out what it was – her x-rays were clear of blockages, her bloodwork was great – actually super for a “senior cat”, she was just overweight (which she had been her entire life after I’d rescued her runted little self from the Humane Society).  They originally diagnosed her with just “vomiting cat” syndrome – as in, some cats just vomit a lot.  In the end, I figured it was probably some sort of upper thorax cancer, causing her pain, coughing and chronic vomiting.

It’s sad that
after twelve years
or thereabouts – lord knows
some of those days and
night were more hours
than what the clock
counted –
I don’t have to worry
about hiding my pen overnight
so I won’t find it
under the couch tomorrow.
I can’t wait for your
flying figure flinging itself
under the fluffing blanket
to play lump in the bed
excitedly as I change the sheets.
You’re not sitting in the
hallway implacably
watching me close the door.
You’re not trilling as I
come back, leading me to
The Cupboard.
It’s sad. After twelve years.

-J.Gibson, Bella, Sept 3, 2013


My Bella girl, 2001-2013


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