I understand that you will display my submission on your website. You can preview and edit on the next page. Of all the times I've said goodbye, This one made me cry. I wasn't there to watch you die, That pain, I hope, I'll never know. I knew that it would happen, but I longed for us to never end.
What shall I do without you? Left by the road, nobody cared, You really hoped that you would be spared. Rosco, my daddy was her first chocolate lab. Deep was my purr, you must concur. Small were my demands, a few viands; a place that was warm, … Click here to write your own. We let our tears flow freely, and cried and cried and cried. Snoball I miss you so. On our way to the vet, You did not want to go. So loving and sweet, Not a nicer cat you could meet. Gerbils, hamsters, dogs cats and an occasional egret.
Alley, my hearts just a bit sore. I almost cannot go on, I feel I cannot breathe. No more gentle licks when I lay upon the floor. You were lost. A lone ferret on a winter city … Click here to write your own.
A Poem For Cats | loss of a pet | Cat poems, Cats, Crazy cats
Your Pet Loss Poems 'R. Tears roll down my cheek, right now I'm feeling weak. Spiky pussycat love. A sweet affectionate gesture always tinged with pain.
A long life you have lived for over 77 years. He seemed to inherit my strengths, my weaknesses, my idiosyncrasies. I considered him my son. Every pain I had, he had.
It takes me to a secret place, Where you and I still play. You wait to see my face, you wait to hear my footsteps as I turn the corner. Pure ice white paws with strength and might! We left for a few hours. And came home to find you not feeling well Not walking right. The angels of God were … Click here to write your own. Thank you.. Oh Thank you Should it not be used for a wonderful time of play?
The joy has gone. When their heart stops beating, and they cease to be. No one else can see it, but it's there, I know. You came into our lives in the most unlikely way At the same time we were asking "will we keep her? And God asked the feline spirit Are you ready to come home?
Although my eyes are filled with tears I think of them happy years. I sent a copy to one of my friends and he said it would be a wonderful thing to share. He was so loving, affectionate and sweet, Having him was such a treat. My sweet rose You have flown away to the fairyland, Leaving your mom alone Do not feel alone, for I am listening. Do not fret over what ifs, for I know you did what you could. Print Version. FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence.
Yet, mad am I not -- and very surely do I not dream.
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But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified -- have tortured -- have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but Horror -- to many they will seem less terrible than barroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place -- some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.
From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets.
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With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and, in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.
I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind.
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We had birds, gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat. This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree.
In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this point -- and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered. Pluto -- this was the cat's name -- was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.
Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character -- through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance -- had I blush to confess it experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them. For Pluto , however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way.
But my disease grew upon me -- for what disease is like Alcohol! One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth.