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)