by Toni mannell
He was nineteen when he left me, sad and forlorn
Buried in his favourite blanket, threadbare and worn
His golden fur has gone now, from around the house
The birds in the garden are safe now, also the mouse
He lived his nine lives fully, each and every one
Our lives are so much quieter since our Old Boy has gone
The cat flap hangs silently, no banging of the door
No tippy-tappy claws, clicking across the floor
No patting of my face with an icy cold paw
No scratching of sharp claws upon the wooden door
Just memories of fine whiskers, a swish of frisky tail
Amber eyes blinking, a distinctly regal male
All the mischief he got up to, through his long, long life
The fixes he got into, the trouble and the strife
His memory is golden, as golden as his fur
And in my mind I hear his soft, gentle purr
Hell never leave me, walks beside me every day
His body may have left, but his spirits here to stay
In Memory of Muttley
November 1983 December 2002