I remember the night we first found you,
How we heard your meow in the dark
And how Sabrina and I were scared
For no real reason at all.

How I tried to ask Mum what to do
And how I took out a bowl of milk anyway
While she chatted on the phone.

How it took a while to gain your trust
And how you kept us up at night
With your crying for your mother

How you eventually became bolder
And how you purred in my arms
As I sat outside on the lawn.

How I sneaked you indoors
And how we watched telly together
Without Mum knowing.

I remember it all and I weep.


I remember the morning we found Kithy,
How you believed the garden to be yours
And how we had to take both of you inside
Before you would befriend her.

How you licked her affectionately
And how we thought you were mothering her
When all the time you were a boy.

How you hated and feared the vet
And how you stumbled about feebly
As the anesthetic slowly wore off.

How I thought that ‘kandúrka’ meant tomboy
And how Mum had used it to mean tomcat
But I love – or loved? – you too much to care.

How you still ‘mothered’ Kithy
And how you cleaned her up
When she herself couldn’t be bothered.

I remember it all and I sob.


I remember the evening you leapt into my lap,
How you watched my computer game
And how you snuggled into me without realising
As you slept in my arms.

How you understood when I was sad
And how you were patient with me
As I cried into your fur.

How you rubbed against me
And how you lavished head-bonks on me
Even when I only wanted but did not need them.

How soft your white belly was
And how you closed those cold, golden eyes
Whenever you began to purr.

I remember you.

–

And I cry over the morning when we let you out into the garden and you did not return.