‘She’s not cold tonight,’
I think suddenly –
passing the heater where
I would leave a blanket for her
to lie on, these winter nights.
I can’t stop myself
from that quick glance
checking her kitty litter
every time I pass the laundry –
where there is no kitty litter now.
Her soft rugs
from all over the house
have been taken down
from her perches and nests,
the hair brushed off, and washed.
I remove the covers
protecting my lounge suite
from enthusiastic scratches.
It does look nice,
now that we can see it.
I clean and put away
her food and water dishes,
gather left-over food supplies
to give to the vet for others …
it’s best to keep busy.
My little cat, Poppi, died of a sudden seizure, in the vet's arms, on Thursday morning – two days ago. Apparently a brain tumour, not uncommon at her age (15) and nothing that anyone could have done. This photo taken in April this year (2026).
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