It is so hard to say goodbye. The end has come.
I knew it would . . . someday.
Such a good boy;
for seven too short years, our Quill, always there for us,
wanting a pat, a lap, a snack to make you fat.
You were a stray, rejected by the world, rescued;
alone but hopeful. Slowly a trusting friendship,
you won my heart and eventually in my arms you were curled.
How can I endure this cruel world without my friend?
So brief a time we are given, But of course, I must go on . . .
You are busy grooming your speckled sable fur,
amber eyes twinkle, a little pink tongue busy curling;
a paw, a face . . . something catches your attention;
you jump up to swat a passing fly buzzing.
Sprawled on the floor, playing otter – you curl up for a nap,
or begging ear-rubs and scratches on a lap.
Seven years is too brief, my dear,
and death came to you like a thief;
Until I draw my last breath, I will hold you in my heart ~~
the price we pay for loving you so much, is grief.
But, I would not change one moment of our time together,
you were a gift of Love, to last me all my lifetime.
And as you drew your last breath,
I whispered in your ear, be at peace dear boy —
We will love you, forever. And miss you twice as long.
For Quill, 15 April 2022