Purrsday Poetry – The day I met you

The day I met you, you were



and pale.

Eyes closed and matted

silent cries dying on your lips.

A faint heartbeat pushed but little hope through your veins.





But you were too far gone

even for Mother’s Milk.

I washed and plucked




from your coat

thinking I was preparing you for Death,

wrapping you in a shroud

but I saw no angels, no lights.

Nothing came for you.

So I held you.

And I fed you.

And I hydrated you

– millimeter by millimeter –

until the sun came up

again and again.

Now you are fierce.

Now you are sassy.

Now you sizzle and spit at those ten times your size because you don’t see the difference.

That sound brings me joy –

that small, forceful expelling of air proclaiming your nerve –

And I smile in the darkness

basking in the sound

Of the Tiny Hiss That Almost Wasn’t.

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