Commonplace Book, page 29 of 29:
My old cat is dead
Who would butt me with
his head.
He had the sleekest fur,
He had the blackest purr,
Always gentle with us
Was this black puss,
But when I found him today
Stiff and cold where he lay,
His look was a lion’s,
Full of rage, defiance:
O! he would not pretend
That what came
was a friend
But met it in pure hate.
Well died, my old cat.
Hal Summers
“My Old Cat”
We don’t know what happened to the old guy, but I suppose we have to accept the inevitable. I hope it was quick for him, even as my real hope is that he staggers up to the door with his arthritic back legs taking their own path.