Final Journey

With grace he jumps upon my lap, deep humming in his throat. He licks his soft, white mitten'd foot and grooms his midnight coat. Then settles down and settles in, like many times before: in all those springs and winters since he came to my front door. He’s never wrought an unclean act inside my house . . my home. He's shed a bit, but never even dragged a dead rat home. He's lazed about inside and out, while others did not last. His years pile up alongside mine, with nearly nineteen passed. I sadden thinking of the friends that left me through those years. His time as well, grows shorter now, along with mine, I fear. But he knows nothing of this truth, as he settles in my lap. No dread upon his whiskered face, this loving, gentle cat. And as he holds sly death at bay, for as long as he can fend; I hope and pray a peaceful trip, escorts him to his end.