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| For Gorby | |
| By AnnieSeed | ||||||
| 09 May 2007 | ||||||
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I wrote this in 2000 after being told my favourite cat Gorby was suffering from an inoperable tumour and couldn't be saved. He fought on though, defied the vet who expected him to be dead in a few weeks. He lived six months after the diagnosis. We have begun to count off the days like beads Unsure when the thread will snap Scattering your precious moments. Today they told us how you will slowly choke Your breath cut off from inside How your heart and lungs are being squeezed aside And how there's nothing they can do. So we have begun to count off the days, but I, I count from the beginning, from the days of kittenhood. You and your brother Boris scaling the Christmas tree Swatting the bright baubles, watching them fall and shatter. Coming home on the bus, you in a basket on my lap, Widdling on me, in revenge for the visit to the vet. But we are coming to the end. The seasons will ring out too few changes Before your year ends. So we are counting out each fragile day Until the light fades and the darkness comes.
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