besom

For the last couple of days, I've been preparing a post about needing to cry and the cat who always made me cry when I was holding it back. She's been dead for years and I haven't done the post yet because I've been trying to find a particular photo of her in my archives. Life has a way of interrupting plans. This morning I opened the front gate and found a dead cat lying in the path. It was one of the strays I have been trying to win over so I could get him neutered. He was a tiny silver and grey tabby. I called him Besom. I noticed about a week ago, he stopped coming around. When I went looking and found him, I could tell he was sick. I tried wooing him. I tried trapping him. But I just couldn't catch him. He died outside my door sometime last night. I'm so grateful he came to me at the last. I was finally able to touch him and stroke him. I gave him a burial in my backyard. I have no pictures of him. He would never get close enough. I will never forget him. 

A feather, rock, and two hibiscus flowers

buried with Besom

along with a handful of food for the journey.