Our mischievous little imp.

Fitting on the palm of my hand.

Saved by our inion’ from the depths of a city dump.

Named after an Irish lass from the west coast of Ireland.

Eighteen years of being our delight.

Beautiful gray, black, tan and hints of white.

Our striped feline imp.

Selfish, for I did not want you to leave that warm window perch.

As sunshine warmed your now sickly body.

Not wanting to bring you to God on my birthday.

Easter Sunday changed everything my dear little one.

For I could no longer bear your suffering go on.

Tonight and tomorrow morning we will spend our last hours together.

As you cuddle on my lap and I gently run my fingers over your delicate fur. 

Remembering those days of purrs over tuna treats snuggles, talking to birds on the porch and being my sporty girl.

Playing with your tin foiled ball like a baseball pitcher.

Playful sister to Raquel, Dusty and Pumpkin

Giving everyone such joy and glee.

My girl, we will miss you.

As you walk over that colored bridge.

Where no pain exists our sweet girl.

Experiencing only happiness.

The happiness of being our angel and watching over us all.

© Mary Anne Abdo

I wrote this poem yesterday and now our girl is gone to the Lord with her other pet siblings and friends.