Miron (28 October 2000 to 14 December 2019)
There was no corner of our house
Not under his regal command;
Of the dozens dead, no mouse
Ever did escape as planned,
He ravaged the rodent underworld
And waged a ceaseless war on string
But mostly spent his work-day curled
And drowsy, disdained anything.
A sullen cloud would billow in,
Announcing the hour in which to dine;
We would watch, all in a spin
To hope he would declare as fine
His meal, and after yawn and stretch
He left the plate, drained of desire,
And goose-step’d, claws unsheathed to fetch
A cushion right before the fire.
He had his moments in the sun,
Exploring when a younger man;
He’d disappear, as though for fun
Into the dark where all began
And now he’s gone, to our great grief,
Our house seems empty, still and flat;
We remain in grateful disbelief
For the life and loss of our noble cat.
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