My oldest brother was seven when we bought you
He's thirty-two now
My sister was 4
My other brother 1.
When I was born you were nearly nine
Still frisky, but less so that the stories I heard,
From when you were young

You are my cat,
My Jemimah,
Sometimes my only friend
I can talk to you in a way I can't talk to anyone else
You know all my secrets

All my troubles I can't talk about to Mom or Dad
Even, at times, we go up to my room and close the door,
just to be alone
Just to talk
To listen
To hear you purr.

I have always know that I can tell you anything
And one day, not even a year ago, I said
"Jemimah, I know you'll take my secrets to the grave and that is why I love you."
I meant that she would not tell anyone, even if she could talk.

But now as I look back and remember you sleeping, sitting or just being your normal lazy self
I realize that what I said meant something more
I realize that as I look at the small circle of clay on my night stand
The one that has your paw print pressed into it
And your death date on the back.