poem: Standing in Morning Sunlight

standing vigil for a dying pet

You are 15 years of memories

curled into 18 inches of plush oval space

in front of a heater;

sleekness and shine gone flat

pronounced ridges and

pained intake of breath

and way too hot under a palm

set gently upon your back,

or lifting your swollen tummy.

 

I weigh options as live snakes:

these spaces are where

the Creator meets us

but only ever halfway.

Time teaches us  to stand in place

for profound transition and loss-

hours or days enough to remember, I pray,

those times you caught an ermine,

challenged me to a duel of wits,

selected 3 ex boyfriends

ran one suitor off

and rejected my choice of mate for you,

preferring your own gender.

 

I opt for a minimally invasive course

and your eyes, for now, are still clear;

you still see too much of me.

I inject, administer, remove and clean:

fluids and functions,

fighting neuronal damage

and liquid aspiration, removing

urine stains, tangles

making the rough, smooth again

the dirty, clean again;

taking back every time

I raised my voice, wondering

do cats laugh at their best tricks

at the close of life?

 

Because, I must it hand to you,

loving, faithful, demanding teacher-

that time you pissed on my ex

should have told me so much.

I am sorry for all you tried to tell me

when I did not have time to listen.

I hope you can still give me

just a few more days with you-

to get used to the thought of you not

snaking around my feet

wanting to go out and stand

in the morning sunlight, glistening

like a spirit guide always was meant to.

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

I wrote this 6 months ago, when we thought we were watching him breathe his last breath. Antibiotics, fluids, and nutrient supplements brought him back to us. He slipped away yesterday, unnoticed amongst household trauma, to die peacefully. A belated spring had come- it was not for long, but he got to see warm sunlit days again.RIP, dear Porgy. Bess misses you terribly.

updated 5/13/13

Reviews

[Art Sun]

there is uniqueness to the thoughts within your poem Marie, the emotional ties are almost or even similar to a relationship with human traits, one can feel the sincerity with which you write and express your closeness, your love, and your compassion...it is surely your Soul expressing the depth of you...

nice thoughts...

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Art... always a pleasure when your kindly soul graces my page with your gentle and insightful words. I do try to capture the depths and often feel as though I fall short... it is encouraging to know others see them in my words. Much appreciated.

[Emily B]

ended up housesitting for dear friends on Saturday night, and her dear friend Mr. Tutti is twenty years old if he is a day, and fading fast . . . I was taken aback at the obvious physical changes in his appearance the other day, and I'm hoping for a few more days for both of you

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Emily... I am happy to report that when I wrote I was sure he was breathing his last (and I have worked as a vet), but he made a miraculous recovery and is finally even gettign some personailty and mobility back. He will however never be the same again, and he will remain very vulnerable to realpses for the rest of his life. I did get those few more days with his chaged form, and was happy to hear him purring in my arms one last time before I left the country.

[Georgia Gypsy]

Ah, this brought tears...too often I've had to have pets put to sleep due to ailments, and never really had the chance to tell them good bye, or adjust my thoughts in order to accept their leaving me...
It also made me laugh....a pet that pisses on anyone is definitely telling us something....
May you and your feline friend find peace.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks Kelli... I leave the country in 5 days, and, really hope the siuation goes one way or the other before I leave. Either way it may be the last good-bye. Thanks for your wishes of peace.

[Mary]

the time you pissed on my ex... ah, our furry guardians try so hard to teach us, but do we listen? Embrace this time, embrace the memories, and stand in the Morning Sunlight with him (even if it is only in your mind this evening) and be comforted, for he knows your heart.

[Marie Anzalone]

You are so right, Mary. True story: shortly after the pissing incident mentioned in this poem, I was visiting the same ex (I had already moved out of the house to CT). It was 5:30 am, and I went out to the car to get something, meditating on how I was waiting for a sign about what to do with this relationship. Out of nowhere a full-grown robin fell from the sky, and landed at my feet, breaking its neck in the fall. When we don't listen the first time, we get reminders. Luckily our animals do not judge us for our mistakes. This little guy has made it a few days, and is even showing some signs of partial recovery (still very weak and disoriented). If there sunshine today I would take him out to see it.