THE CAT OF THE HOUSE
( Magic peering through the spindles)
The Cat Of The House
Author: Ford Madox Ford (1873-1939)
Over the hearth with my 'minishing eyes I muse; until after
the last coal dies.
Every tunnel of the mouse,
every channel of the cricket,
I have smelt,
I have felt
the secret shifting of the mouldered rafter,
every bird in the thicket.
Nightingale up in the tree!
I, born of a race of strange things,
of deserts, great temples, great kings,
in the hot sands where the nightingale never sings!
Yesterday was a very sad day around our house...We had to say farewell to our old black cat, Magic....Magic was somewhat of an enigma. He adored my husband but merely tolerated the rest of us but we loved him in spite of this. We adopted him from Petsmart when he was two or three years old. A stray scraggly little lethargic thing he was but he sprang to life with vigor when we brought him home and attended to him. We had many years with him and he was nearing 14 or so but steadily spiraling downward...It's so hard to see your pets in this state...The above poem by Ford Madox Brown epitomizes how Magic would've been most happy....He was a house cat though and was rarely able to venture outdoors to enjoy such antics( we live in a downtown area near a very busy street) but he would watch by the window as the birds would taunt and tease him. He was so desperate to get through the glass window to pounce...My favorite memory of him was to see how his whiskers fluttered rapidly and twitched with fervor as the autumn leaves from the back maple tree fell to the ground in a rhythmic dance. He was most funny to watch during this little "Leaf Ritual."...He will be missed and the house is strangely empty without him but he is at peace now and no longer ailing so that gives us great comfort...And, I can't help but think he's in heaven chasing birds, leaves, squirrels and butterflies to very little avail...