Our house is so quiet.
So quiet that the cat’s footsteps
whispering through the house
speak of his soft presence.
At last the dogs bed is his
without the dance of enforced sharing.
there are beds in almost every room
even two in the cosy sitting room.
But top choice was the comfy dog bed.
Now visitors see the dogs bed
in pride of place,
it’s presence dominant.
Quickly I try to reassure that
we aren’t in denial
or pretending the cat is Cara,
slipping the collar around him
and trotting of to the park.
No we’re just unwilling to move the bed
that he so obviously loves it.
And his soft delicate snores
break the silence.
We gain such comfort
as he quietly takes over.
We thought that food was safe from
the long legged thief
whose stealth has gained her
everything from fillet steak
to roast salmon and expensive mature cheddar.
Unimpaired by remorse.
But the day after she died
a sausage was stolen
her spirit tempted by an
unclaimed sausage perhaps?
But the the cat appeared
licking his lips
heading for THE bed
and an unrepentant snooze.
Soothing the sadness
with his beautiful presence.
