Saturday, 9 May 2009

1993 - 2009

Never again will you wait until everybody has sit down to eat to ask going out.

Never again will you fall asleep in an impossible position.

Never again will you follow the one who's sweeping the floor in order to check if it is done properly.

Never again will you raise your head and close your eyes when I scratch you under your chin.

Never again will you chase my feet when I'm wearing slippers.

Never again will you run in circles around the flat in your daily five minutes of madness, from the living room to the balcony, to the bedroom, to the corridor, to the living room, ...

Never again will you call from the door for the one who's just gone out to take out the rubbish.

Never again will you have that ironic look in your golden eyes, as if you already knew everything.


Never again will you ask someone to turn the tap on for you to drink water.

Never again will you gently lick our finger tips with your scratchy tongue.

Never again will you miaow us to complain when we come back home after having left you alone for one or two days.

Never again will you rub your head on my knees as I duck to say hello, recognising me every time I come back home and marking me as your property once again.

Never again will you threateningly hiss guests who try to stroke you on your back.

Never again will you hide your paws under your body if it's cold.

Never again will you foretell my mother's intention nor will you ever run again to hide under the bed before she gets you into the bathtub.

Never again will you get yourself into paper bags nor will you ever again be afraid of plastic ones.


Never again will you quietly ask us for food as we eat, gently touching our arms with your paw.

Never again will you go out to scout the stair landing, the most mysterious part of your indoors world.

Never again will you keep us in suspense as you walk on the railing of the balcony.

Never again will you fall down to the courtyard from a third floor and get only a scratch on your snout.

Never again will you leave the thinnest grey hairs on our clothes.

Never again will you set up a big fight every time we take you to the vet.

Never again will you fall asleep on our coats just minutes before we have to leave.

Never again will you make us worry about your ageing ailments and the bad health of your kidneys.


Never again will I marvel at the softness of your fur as I stroke you nor will you ever again show your acknowledgement by purring.

I know that the next time that I'm home, in Tarragona, my heart will hope to find you behind any door, but I will never see you again.

Now sleep, sleep forever, sweet Grisona. Go back to the soil and keep shining in our memories.


Gitta said...

Abschied tut immer weh.Aber in einem so hohen Alter,hat man sich den Katzenhimmel vedient.
Sicher trifft sie sich da mit meiner Missi (gleiche Rasse in schneeweiss)sie hat uns im Alter von 5Jahren durch eine Vergiftung verlassen.Noch Tage danach erwischte ich mich dabei,dass ich ihr Futter bereiten wollte,oder mit dem Wollknaeuel wackelte,mit dem sie so gerne spielte.Der Schmerz des Verlusts vergeht,die schoenen Erinnerungen bleiben.
Jetzt gibts eine Minu ohne Rasse,die nicht mehr das Haus verlassen darf.Sie gehoert meinen Enkelkindern.Vielleicht hat sie ein laengeres Leben als meine Missi,aber bestimmt nicht soo aufregend.
Auf meinem Schoss sitzt jetzt ein Dackel und hoert die Geschichten die ich den Kindern von Missi erzaehle.Anteil nehmende Gruesse Gitta

tonicito said...

Gitta said...Goodbye always hurts. But being that old, she earned a place in Heaven. For sure is she going to meet there my Missi (same race, snow white). She left us as she was 5 years old through poisoning. Days after I surprised myself preparing her food or shaking the ball of wool she liked to play with. Pain of the loss goes away and the beautiful memories stay.
Now we have a Minu without race that may not leave the house. it belongs to my grandchildren. Maybe it will live longer than Missi, but for sure its life won't be soo exciting as hers. A dachshund sits on my lap now and listens to the stories I tell the children about Missi.
My commiseration.
Gitta, many thanks for your beautiful words and memories. Grisona already spent her 7 lives and, as you say, now the pain slowly goes away and only the nice memories will stay.
LG, T.