I have a cat, MENOW.  He is a rather famous feline. His picture has been in The Boston Globe posing with yours truly in the offices of the Ibbetson Street Press. As any pet owner knows, cats become an important part of the family, and when they pass one suffers like one would for a beloved relative.  Poet Keith Tornheim writes a poem for his cat–and the passage of time.

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Orion’s Flight

Oh, cat who used to jump so high
at dust motes hanging in the sky,
how can you now so calmly lie
down here without complaint or cry,
your body shrunk, your food passed by,
knowing you will shortly die?

Ah, yes, but next time I
will be a bird and truly fly.

– Keith Tornheim

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