Silly old cat.
You almost made it to twenty.
What is that in cat years?
You never gave in
to mere affection
and were loathe to suffer
a belly rub.
You drew blood
from the uninitiated.

Maine Coon and who knew what else.
Hair
everywhere,
more than you knew how to groom.
It fell to your bipeds
to help you with that
and we were no captains of diligence.
Your look was always disheveled
as your regarded the world with distrust.

You found a routine of love
because the rest of us would
have it no other way.
You were so tiny when you came
and so weightless when you left.
Rama taught you what he could and
preceded you to the treeline down in back.
He was the mother you lost too soon.
Silly old cat.