Somebody's Cat

He was somebody’s cat

Once.

Was loved and cuddled and fed

Once.

Was a fine, fit specimen

Once.

Huge, shiny and black

Once.

 

He played out

Once.

Chased birds and mice

Once.

Strayed over the fence

Once.

And on to the motorway

Once.

 

Now he lies at the side of the motorway

Still a beautiful, shiny, black cat

But with unseeing eyes turned heavenwards.

Never more to be loved

Never more to be stroked

Never more to play by the motorway.

 

I pass and mourn his passing

A life so precious cut so short

In one careless moment.

 

I pass again the next day and he is still there

Why do they not move him I wonder?

At least show him some respect

And not just leave him lying there.

 

He still looks like a black cat

Wet and bedraggled from the rain

Somebody’s cat

Once.

 

I pass again a few days later

And he is still there

But less of a cat now

And more of a limp piece of fur.

 

By the end of the week

I pass the flat, brown mess and weep.

You would never even know now

That he

Was somebody’s cat

Once.

 

A year later

A small, clean pile of bones

Is all there is to show that there was a cat,

Somebody’s cat,

Once.

 

© Carol Walker 2002