by Ric Schumacher
The diagnosis was swift and succinct. Cancer.
The prognosis left little room for hope. Death
He was cantankerous, demanding and loud mouthed.
I didn’t think I loved him but I did; I think he loved me too.
He moved into my head, my house,
My heart and my bed.
Cold and wintery was the night we found each other;
Cold and wintery was the day he left me.
How death distorts time. It seems as though he was always with me
And that he entered my life only yesterday.
Goodbye Spike, It was good while it lasted.
I suppose that’s just the way it is with stray cats.