Month: June 2014

Orange like the sun with

yummy white throat and breast and paws,

he nuzzles nose beneath my curled hand:

We feel his body rise and fall as

my abdomen breathes in and out.

I see his little ears turn toward my useless hand

that stopped caressing:

begs sans words.

Small and big against myself, but

warm, warm, warm.

Julius no longer kneads my body before

settling down. J. can hardly walk a line these days.

At 84 in human years

my beloved, beloved friend is nearing

transition into spirit,

back from where we came like

   spring flowers jumping up

     from nowhere.

He’ll go first. and then this

warm and loving weight here on my lap will not come round

begging for a hug,

Then my arms and lap will all be empty,

a drifting boat.

And here am I with tears though

he’s present with me now,

my brain in both the now and then at once.

Perhaps he only feels today.

Or not.

I wouldn’t guess the amazing consciousness of cats.

Is he even now with Tom in spirit? In both worlds at once?

Julius, the last physical remnant of my son.