Death of the Stray Cat
It moved slowly, squatting on its hind legs
eyes glimmering with agonizing pain,
the last of its nine lives already spent.
The cold spat its anger in convulsive rage
like crystal bullets and the hail
unloaded its wrath, pelting its rib cage.
Its last meow sounded like a newborn child.
White smoke spumed from the chimneys,
in shapes forming ghastly ghosts,
vanishing into the frosty freezing lights.
It searched desperately for shelter shaking
the gelid water from its icy paws.
It eyed a high wall knowing that led to a house.
Beyond it would have found the warmth
but its climbing agility was now in the distant past.
Darkness came closer. It was sensing death
squeezing its heart, lurking with the drizzling rain.
After the storm, its body lay stiff in a watery grave,
the early morning light came with no sound or stir
the milk in the rusty bowl remained untouched.
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Author:
My work appears always under my real name Raymond Fenech gonzi (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 19th, 2023 12:47
- Comment from author about the poem: This ginger cat lived in a field not far from the apartment I moved into soon after I got married. I lived in it for over 18 years before moving away to a quieter place in the central part of Malta. The cat visited us for food and milk. One day, I noticed that her milk bowl and the food remained untouched. A few days later, I was walking by the field and the cat was dead half immersed in water. My neighbour said she was over 17 years old and it was a miracle she lived that long in such a busy street full of traffic. I never forgot Ginger and I still feel sad when I think of her. I didn't take her in because I am highly allergic to cats. I get asthma if I stay in the same living quarters for more than 15 minutes with a cat. I was 14 when I discovered I could never own a cat. Instead, I have always had big dogs. The first was an Irish Wold Hound crossed with a Golden Retriever. Giant of a dog about 130 kilos. His name was Rex. He lived at my aunt's and we got him when he was still three months old from the SPCA. He already weighed 20 kilos. Then came Rex II from the same shelter who was a Labrador, then Pooch, an incredible dog that warned my wife when I was dying in the Hospital whilst they were at home. Pooch was a quiet dog but tough as nails. He never howled like a wold, but fifteen minutes before a nurse phoned my wife to inform her I was departing, Pooch went outside in the hall of our new villa and started howling. I'm not surprised because dogs do smell death. My vet says they can see in the dark and can hear 120,000 times more than humans. No need to say, my wife was scared out of her wits when she heard the howling. Instinctively knowing how close Pooch was to me, she realized something was not right. I was 42 and had been diagnosed with Cancer Lymphoma stage 3. And now I have Buddy another enormous dog. I got Buddy from a man who had nine puppies from his pure breed Lab and a German pointer. I love animals, no matter what breed or species. I think they are the only creatures that can give their master unconditional love.
- Category: Reflection
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