Bearcat, Bentley and Patti, 1987. The only way you could tell them apart was by their tails. Their mother’s tail bent to the left, Patti’s bent to the right, Bentley’s was zigzag and Bearcat’s was just straightly expressive. Sweet babies. Bearcat is the one to your left.
Presently, I live with five cats. If you follow my blog, you’ve been seeing them off and on over the past year. The kittens unceremoniously dropped off by my garage door are now about a year old. They mainly reside outside in a sheltered garage in a cushy bed big enough to hold them all or a little cathouse I bought which once held them all but now mainly holds them one-by-one in an equally cushy bed.
My oldest cat is Annie, now 16 years old and a bit cranky as she rules the roost as an inside cat. She will allow the other cats inside only if they maintain their distance. About 6 times a day, she yowls her insistence at being served a small meal. I comply. She always gets a chin and ear rub first, then she returns to her cushy bed in the large bath/ shower of the bathroom of my bedroom. Her litter tray and dishes are also there. I’ve pretty much been relegated to the guest bathroom.
This poem, however, is for Bearcat–upon his death, the only surviving sibling of 4 Blue Burmese kittens that I was foster mother to from the time of their birth. Their mother, a wild cat, moved in with us long enough to give birth and stuck around until the kittens were well beyond weaning before she vanished again into the Redwood Forests of the San Lorenzo Valley near Santa Cruz, CA.
Only Bearcat was still alive when I moved to Mexico in 2001. Sadly, he drowned in my pool a few months later. I was devastated. This was his epitaph, written as a string of kennings for a NaPoWriMo prompt in 2014.
window ledge percher
door crack peeper
For the dVerse Poets open prompt.