No Joy

Joy’s gone! On the day of 1st local tea party meeting.
President Obama’s birthday. A woeful Wednesday.
August 4th, with the hottest summer reading, 2010.
Gone because his piddling began and didn’t end.
Never will I forget his fearful, repeated meow’s,
Punctuating the humid sunshine when carried for the 1st
And only time outside to his doom. Then the distant crack
As my lifetime of cat ownership came to an end. With sobs.
With a question, a regret. “Why did he come to this?”
Ended is my climb up a flight of stairs at least once,
Sometimes twice a day for cat box duty. Joy’s foundling
Personality, ½ wild, returning my love short of deep purring
Affection on my waiting lap. Only one month shy of 6 years.
Ended too his some time snooze beside me at night in bed.
And his sexual satisfaction via the coverlet on my knee.
Paws pounding the rugs each morning. Window watching with the dog.
Arm wrestling with Tom. Hiding from strangers and thunder.
His vocal, “Please bring my meat treat.” A fake snake toy on the floor.
Catnip teasing his brain. A gentle man among knick-knacks
With an instant response to his name, how he could spread out
His tawny frame in apparent, trusting comfort on the floor!
How he could contort his anterior self in such a way as
To allow himself to kiss his rear claws! I remember my
Playful boy, content as a neutered man with a warm radiator,
Birdwatching and two meals a day. Each idiosyncrasy
A memory of the gift of his unique life. Do I regret?
What’s regret except the pain of a lost Joy?