Eating the Roses

Facebook certainly knows how to rub it in. The above memories of Mr Cheeky flashed up on Valentine's Day from the same day two years ago when our little monkey decided to try and eat my Valentine's roses! Everything was for him in his catty mind!

In fact we could never have plants or flowers in the flat as he would soon demolish them one way or another. His funeral flowers have miraculously lasted nearly four weeks by comparison as Django is very respectful of plants.

I am a bit better now about not bursting into tears at inopportune times, but I still expect to see him around every corner in the flat. Writing the following poem helped a bit. 

The Grim Reaper’s Mate (Grief)

Whether you yearn to hear a key in the door

The flip of a catflap or the pitter patter of a paw

Grief doesn’t differentiate

Whether you’ve lost a person or a pet

It fillets your innards with pain so raw

You just don’t want to carry on any more

Your appetite is stolen and so is your sleep

You ache all over, no tears left to weep

The longing to rewind time won’t go away

You feel you’d give anything for just one more day

The what ifs’ and if onlys’ claim the wee small hours

It’s an effort to think about new dawns and showers

You make silly mistakes like putting kettles in fridges

And confusing an onion with a Golden Delicious

Your car drives you in unintended directions

You’ve aged ten years overnight when you catch your reflection

The rain doesn’t move you and nor does the sun

Will you ever smile again, let alone have fun?

You want to be alone but crave company too

Though no friend can bring back what you need them to

Yes, you’d give up a winning lottery ticket to have things back as they were

Whether you’re grieving the loss of a human loved one or a babe with fur

©LS King 2017