When people die, they leave a will to distribute their goods and possessions.
If I could write, I too would leave such a testament.
To a poor lonely feral, a stray cat,
I leave my lovely home,
My small bowl,
My cosy bed,
My soft cushion,
And my favourite lap,
And affectionate stroking hands,
And sweet voices,
And the place I won in your hearts,
And your love, which at the end of the road, will help me to walk away quietly, without suffering, lying in the embrace of loving hands.
When I die, please don’t say, “I’m never getting another animal, it’s too heavy a loss!”
Find a lonely forlorn cat, one not loved by anyone else, to take my place.
I give it to you…
My love… that’s all that I can give.
6 August 2016
The Beauty of Russia