by (c 1997) S L Smith
From kittenhood you lived your life upon unforgiving streets,
Tough existence for a cat, though you never asked for peace,
And now all I can offer you is the needle's final peace.
Think of a world where every litter's planned,
Where every cat is wanted in every town and land,
Why are so many homeless? It's hard to understand.
Why every shelter in the land is full of surplus cats and strays,
Praying for adoption within their seven days,
Accusing us of negligence in each compelling feline gaze.
If I took you to a shelter you wouldn't stand a chance
When even cuddly kitties don't get a second glance;
And you just growl and hiss and spit while they all purr and prance.
I hope the goddess understands why I cannot offer more,
Than a filling bowl of cat food placed outside my door,
And a blanket in the garage so you can rest your weary paws.
You are too wild a spirit to live inside with me,
You need my protection, but you still need to be free,
To neuter and to nurture, that is my responsibility.
And now you're old the time has come to bring you final rest,
That you let me pick you up at last, I feel that I am blessed,
Though I know it's just because you're too weak to resist.
I pray that God has mercy on me and will understand,
That for his wild creature I've done the best I can,
And loved you from a distance, my wild street kitty friend.
For all the other kitties that live upon the street,
I pray someone will neuter them and give them food to eat,
And a helping hand right at the end to ease them into sleep.
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