My Nine Lives

A partially freeverse partially rhyming poem I wrote that would introduce children to the concept of death&cancer and from the POV of a cat.

What a feeling it was to be a cat when your Human gave you milk. My Human was the best. She smiled always and loved me often. When it was hot she would brush me and in the cold she’d cuddle. My Human made me happy, she was what made happy.

          I had also other Humans, but my Human was all mine. She was small and young, while the others were much larger. My Human gave me food and changed my liter. She called me by name and never shouted; my Human was mine and what made happy.

          When I cried she was always there. When she cried, I did my best. Soon enough she cried more often. She cried at night and when she slept. She cried when others couldn’t see. But I saw, I always saw.

          When she showered, she’d cry harder. She’d come out and smile at me with eyes like fire. She’d run a finger through her mane and it would shed. She’d cry to me and pick me up, then in bed we would tuck.

          My Human no longer slept still. She’d awaken and rustle about. I tried my best to be the best cat there was. My Human needed me. A cat always knew.

          My Human began to make trips away, and then she’d return with less mane. Her cheeks stayed bright and her eyes always like fire. The larger Humans looked lost. Their eyes like holes and hair aloft. They began to cry too, and I watched. I always saw, I always did.

          The crying worsened, and so did I. My milk stopped pouring and my food grew crust. I drank water from the dog’s bowl and ate the grass outside. My Human was still mine though, and it was in her eyes.

          One day my Human slept. She slept and never moved. Her mane grew lost and her skin fell flushed. My Human smiled still, her eyes closed untouched. I cuddled my Human for hours, until the larger took a notice. My Human was there, but she had left us.

          The Humans took her away, and forever away she stayed. The others fell silent for good. My milk was poured and my food was fresh. I was brushed and all day I’d rest. In her bed I slept and her room I lived, my Human was gone but while I missed her, I lived.

          They say cats have 9 lives, have you heard? I regret to say that’s false. We live for you, and that makes one; without you we are lost. I live to tell this mournful tale so hopefully you will see when my Human left to the world above, inside her she took me. 

The End

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