Ode to Gus

You were a tiny fluff of gray

Born in the wild weeds of the side yard.

Hidden away with your five siblings.

Your mother young, barely grown.

And yet she did her best to tend to you.

Gunny cared for the six of you.

Wiping a matted eye.

Giving antibiotics.

Firming your bowels with meds.

Your mother was patient.

Perhaps relieved to have care provided that she could not.

We were hopeful. You all seemed to thrive.

Then there were only five.

One sister curled sleeping never to awaken.

Our hearts broke.

And each day, as your mother frantically tried,

One by one all your siblings died.

We cried. No more could we do than we had done.

But you, sweet Gus, little fluff of gray,

Those beautiful blue eyes and little white feet.

You seemed to thrive despite the odds.

We were hopeful.

You were a joy to see come running when we called.

Tiny you were, never seeming to grow.

And yet, you seemed healthy.

We were overjoyed by your progress.

You were thriving. And you charmed up to us readily.

How old were you now?

Your eyes had been opened for weeks.

All told we think you were six to eight weeks old.

Last night you came for the final time.

We couldn't know that it would be the case

As Gunny called "Gus, Gus, Gus" it would be the last time to see your kitten face.

I had wanted to see you but I was busy and did not take the time.

So, I looked for you tonight and there you were found.

Curled sleeping eternal beneath the shade of my tomato plant by the door.

You will come to us no more.

I am so sorry that we could not save you.

It saddens us deeply that the feral colony you were born into has so much genetic issues and disease.

But you are our inspiration to keep trying to help.

Sleep little Gus.

We loved you and you are missed.