Shadow

 Shadow

Her soft, resonant name describes her nature,

gentle, unassuming, quiet and steadfast,

my sweet feline companion, shiny black coat 

with a white patch under her chin.

Curled up on my bed during the day

or basking in the sun through a south window.

She was the miracle kitty. One morning 

she seemed almost dead. I rushed her to the vet

where they connected her up to life-saving tubes

and miraculously she survived, almost thrived.

She had a heart murmur from the very beginning,

and later an injury that gave her a lasting limp.

We now limp around together in our home,

Both of us putting up with our imperfections,

though she is more patient than I.

She has a streak of independence,

so won’t tolerate being picked up.

But on her own terms, she snuggles up to me

when I am sitting up in bed, my notebook in hand,

she in perfect comfort, purring, purring.

Before sleep, when I’m reading in bed,

she climbs to my side again, a loyal companion.

When I turn off the light, she knows to get down,

curl up in her own small round bed

and sleep nearby, softly snoring.

I wonder if she hears me snore too.

She and I have lived this way together

for four long years, through covid, through

summer and winter, spring and fall.

A simple kind of uncomplicated closeness,

love unburdened with the usual human complexity.

We thrive together, lean into each other,

making a deep feeling of home, Shadow and I.

NF 12/6/22