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 white cat angle
THE LAST ACT OF COMPASSION
by S Hartwell
She lies there gently breathing,
And she’d like for you to know,
That she’s reached the final crisis And it’s time for her to go.
She needs a little help now,
To ease her from this life,
There’s nothing left but suffering,
You can see it in her eyes.
The vet has got the answer,
To end her pain and fear,
That last act of compassion,
For a friend you love so dear.
So save her from those last days,
She deserves a final peace,
It’s a mercy,
not betrayal,
To ease her into sleep.
I know your heart is broken,
Though the pain,
in time,
will ease,
And at Heaven’s gates she’s waiting,
On the threshold of a dream.
THE PURRY GATES
by Anon
It seems that I’ve reached Heaven,
or its doorstep at any rate,
And been winding round St Peter’s ankles by the Pearly Gates,
I’ve plucked the angels’ harp-strings and made a merry sound,
But it’s plucking at my heartstrings that you are not around.
So I think I’ll sit and wait here,
just outside the door,
And as the souls come floating in,
I’ll tap them with my paw,
And when you seek admittance,
they’ll rename this place –
It will become Purradise,
and these the Purry Gates!
MESSAGE FROM SOOTY
by Marie Anthony
My very dear Master and his Lady Wife I am really enjoying this lovely new life;
The milk is like nectar,
the food is ambrosial;
When I get my wings up I must pay you a call And sun-bathe awhile in the old tortoise house Oh,
I’ve just met a young monkey and a little white mouse And I’ve chummed up with Colombe,
a nice turtle dove;
Of course our dear Jenny is here and sends you her love;
And Pussy,
‘the pretty cat from Eighty Two,
Archway Road’,
And a budgie,
a froggie (he’s English!) and even a toad.
I think of you often;
I have never forgotten And please,
really,
you mustn’t ever feel rotten About that Last Kindness.
You were truly my friend,
You lovingly stayed with me right to the end But,
you see,
it isn’t The End;
it’s more A Beginning,
You should just hear the purring,
the cooing and singing! Though there’s no bicycle here upon which to abide A sagacious old donkey often gives me a ride.
I feel and I know that you both are near.
Guess what?
Three hearty Miaows! Now I can hear.
AFTERTHOUGHT
by W Girt
If ever I get to Heaven,
please,
Peter let there be Purring by the Golden Gates,
a cat to welcome me.
By crystal fountain,
clear and cool,
I’d like a place to stop,
To watch a languid pussy paw curl out to catch a drop.
And if an angel feather drifts gently down from space,
Surely there’ll be a kitten there to whirl in frenzied chase.
But if,
in Heaven’s great mansions,
for a cat there is no room,
Then Peter,
lock the gates gain – I’m going straight back home.
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