Orange                                                                                                                      01/16/23

Orange Boy died, just before Christmas,

         Natural causes, old age, over seventeen

He’d had a bout with something a few months ago,

            But seemed to bounce back, at least

Until the last few weeks, when he stopped eating regularly,

            Spending most of his days asleep in the studio,

In the bed set below the easel, coming out now and then

            To take water, and then even that stopped.

We brought him to the vet that Thursday night,

            The last ride. So hard to say goodbye

To this old friend. We’d had adventures,

This well-travelled cat, driven cross-country twice,

            From Brookings to Boston, and all stops between,

Born on the west coast, he spent a few years in the east, in the snow and cold,

Orange Boy, not the nicest of cats, truth be told,

            Cranky most of the time, reacted badly to strangers,

Who after trying to pet him would call out for bandages,

            And we too bled from occasional scratches,

But he was our cat, a gift as a kitten, a playful young fireball,

            Who’d break bread with the chickens, in the front yard,

In the morning, then climb to the uppermost branches

Of the old English walnut tree beside the house,

An unaccomplished mouser, he’d bring mice,

            A rodent he’d found in the basement,

Set it free in the hallway, still alive, then forget about it,

            And I’d chase the mouse down, trap it alive,

And send it into the neighbor’s yard, and go back inside

            To praise the cat, puffed with pride, resting on his laurels,

The great orange hunter, scourge of vermin, defender

            Of home and hearth, an almost boon companion,

For a long time. I’ve never had a pet so long, never

            Cared so much about a cat, for such a long time,

Orange Boy, my old friend, goodbye, au revoir,

We are left in our grief, you were always your irredeemable self, now gone,

and sorely missed.