Pegasus

I was a baby
when you arrived in my house
cradled by our mom.

Little runt kitten-
nobody expected you
to live a long time.

You looked like a cat
our parents had before you
were born: a tortie.

It was evident
that you loved to go outdoors,
but you paid the price.

You were awfully young
to bear a litter of six,
but all of them lived.

You moved house with us
when you, your son and I were
considered infants.

How could you stand it
when I as a toddler cut
your whiskers and wings?

I bet you were glad
when I stopped tormenting you
and got my own cat.

But you never liked
my kitty; why was that so?
She was innocent.

Well, you did your best
to be civil to my girl,
but she was still mad.

She adored your son.
Was that why you hissed at her
making her upset?

It doesn't matter.
You two learned to coexist
and to share your son.

Speaking of sharing,
I remember how you were
when you first met Jon.

You wanted him to
cuddle you and forget me.
What a bad Doggy!

After that breakup,
you forgot him and helped me
overcome the pain.

All you asked for was
for me to spend all my time
simply petting you.

When the petting stopped-
"No howling, Howling Kitten!"-
you'd begin to cry.

Yet I gave you pets
when no one else was able;
it made us closer.

One day we noticed
you had problems with grooming.
So I gave you pets...

with lots of shampoo!
Doggy, you needed a bath.
You stunk like a skunk.

You howled like mad,
but I think you were grateful
I got that gunk out.

Then came the time when
you wanted to go outside.
That was amusing!

We got you a leash,
put you in the pink harness
and took you for walks.

You enjoyed those walks,
jaunts around the neighborhood
and in the backyard.

It's hard to forget
when your items are still here:
harness, brush, shampoo.

You were my sister
and never gave up on me.
That's so rare to see.

But now you are gone,
and life must continue, so...
goodbye, Pegasus.