Elegy for Toby

The day after...

it's so quiet
As morning's occupations
and ablutions take place,
the reminders tumble forth...
your feline voice
that made its morning greeting
when the bedroom door swung open
and you wound your way
around my ankles
with murmurs of affection and hunger
as you fit your day
into mine.

It's the little things.
The care to avoid stepping
on your foot or tail
when prepping our
foodstuffs in the kitchen,
yet this morning the floor is bare
of the food and water dish,
and you.

The nearness we shared
at each others' sides...
during our days and evenings,
when you perched or snuggled
within arm's reach
for a random stroke,
sometimes a visit on my lap.

At my elbow, there's no 
eager windowsill companion
as birdseed and peanuts
are tossed out to the waiting
birds and squirrels.

The brush sitting on your carpet tree
lies quiet with hairs from
your orange, tiger-patterned coat
still caught among its bristles.

No evidence of activity
have disturbed the sands
of your litter,
the door to its space closed,
its chore concluded.

As the end came for your body,
tears muddled my vision,

my heart filled again
with affection and love
for the little fella,
my friend.

Many, many small reminders will fill
the rest of this day and time ahead--
when morning's birdseed and peanuts
are flung out the window,
or our space together
on the couch beckons,
it's the little reminders,
that will welcome
a mind and heart visit with Toby

my feline companion
who sometimes shape-shifted
into a dog or Toby Wan Kenobi.

            --JM

***