Farewell, my sweet companion

The last thing I did for Daisy,

my faithful feline companion,

was to dig her grave

in the damp clay soil,

near the spot in the backyard

where she often waited patiently

for rodents to appear.

And then I laid her gently,

slightly curled

at the bottom of the hole,

with the mouse she'd caught

the night before.

One last good-bye.

One last murmuring of gratitude

for the 15 years we had together.

One shovel of dirt

then the second

and she had disappeared into the Earth.

She was always an excellent camouflage artist.

I miss her especially at night.

As I readied for bed, she would sit in the doorway,

watching,

until I was settled with my book.

And then she would nestle beside me,

purring,

and requesting that I rub her head.

Always on my left side,

where there was more room in the bed.

Our last night together

was especially poignant

feeling her soft paws resting on my forearm,

as if to claim me,

but also a gesture of deep trust.

I miss her company at meals

when she would often take

a seat at the table—

kitchen table in the morning,

dining room table in the evening—

usually before we even sat down.

And all the many times

she would trade seats

when Claire got up from the table.

It was almost as if she did it

just to hear us laugh.

Hers is a deeply felt loss

A poignant reminder of the preciousness of our short time on Earth.

For now,

the light in the leaves

is strikingly luminous

and the birdsong

extra-sweet.

Dear sweet Daisy.

I hope the hunting grounds are bountiful

on the other side,

(and someone else takes over your hunting duties here!)

Thank you for your companionship

and all the lessons

in how to rest

and enjoy life's simple pleasures.

I will always treasure your memory.