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He came to me
as a tired stray
I remember
well, in the month of May,
His coat was
dull, his eyes were sore
A sorry
sight, sitting at my door.
I gave him
milk and a bowl of meat
I washed his
eyes and bathed his feet,
Much happier
now he began to purr
As I gently
brushed his tangled fur.
He cuddled up
close, feeling quite safe
No longer now
a poor little waif,
His love grew
stronger day by day
He talked to
me in his own little way.
He never let
me out of his sight
By my side in
the day, on my bed at night,
He made
friends with Sam and Sapphire the kitten
And with
little Gemma he became quite smitten.
A favourite
place in the sun was his bed
One paw round
the kitten, another round his head,
He would lie
there for hours at peace with the world
His eyes
tightly shut, his tail neatly curled.
He died this
year and now lies to rest
Under his
favourite tree where the blackbirds nest,
In all he
spent twelve years with us
Never hurting
or scratching or making a fuss.
I will never
know his age, that is true
But those
years spent with us were all too few.
Now Sapphire
and Sam reign supreme -
But I
will never forget the sight of him
When I opened
the door on that morning in May
And
discovered 'Ginge' my lovable stray.
Denize Taylor (from Tadley, England)
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