On Friday, I lost my dear cat Big Red to cancer. This poem is morbid, maudlin, and incomplete but I needed to write it, needed to share it, and hope it resonates with others who have lost beloved pets.
Because of your medical condition, your things are everywhere:
the $15 pouch of special diet treats, partially gone;
the half-pack of fortaflora for your IBD;
the pills and fluid bag I got you only a few days ago, when we hoped they would help;
16 cans of very expensive Purina EN, because nothing was too extravagant to keep your little system running for as long as we could.
The red Star Trek food bowl you like best is still full; Littlecat eats in solitary rumination. She knows you are gone and misses you.