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I think of him
striped and lost returning to the same back door step that does not belong to him the kind lady feeding him indulgently for a time through the blistering hot summer until September 15th and then comes a plea over the neighborhood internet: sweet boy kitty at Multnomah cat shelter... had been feeding him all summer long... posted signs and no owner came forward ...so I took him to shelter...he is multi-colored, striped, loving, even-tempered, possibly abandoned... please pass on has been there since September 15th urgent...posted on 9/26/2014 I sense a twinge of guilt/remorse/earnestness but what it must be like for those who keep going to the doors of others who don't really want us hoping to be loved but knowing we are not going to be loved forgetting this disappointment every evening so that one can begin feeling hopeful each day that the door will open but it does not it just never does the pain of it can be crushing confusing "simpering softy" you might say that to me all that emotion for a stupid cat? some of you might add "so what, its only a stupid cat..." well, there are those who would try so hard for a cat only to give up on people... and we do give up on other relationships like these fine examples every single day: our earth our fellow creatures other cultures, countries our parents our siblings our friends ourselves its no small wonder some neighbor woman got tired of looking out for a stray who was desperate and hungry looking for love and a home but lucked out in the end luck? but I am crying now, none too softly as I sit at the computer typing this out I'm remembering the neighborhood papered with pictures of a brown tabby cat looking hopefully into the face of the person taking his picture on a back porch on a hot summer afternoon most likely he was waiting expectantly to be fed and wondering what the fuss was about... would it have been kinder if he had been left for dead? or shipped off earlier without the intermittent kindnesses? what if he had known his destiny? understood? intuited it? forgiven her? that thought is what is keeping my fingers typing and the tears flowing. I am holding my breath some as well and saying a prayer for him crossing my grubby chewed up fingers somehow I'm hoping he's still breathing and leaving the over-crowded shelter with someone kindly and new haven't we all been and felt unwanted haven't we all been and felt unloved and shouldn't this stop us from... destroying all that is innocent and good? oh I know people do the best they can whatever that means. Copyright September 23, 2014 All Rights Reserved By This Author Meloo/Melissa A Howells Tilt-a-World the last sentence is a Candide kind of reference and no, just because I don't believe this is the best of all possible worlds, does that make me the eternal pessimist. Vote for this poem |
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