Fog
BY CARL SANDBURG
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Recently, a little kitten came into my life for a short time, changing everything. She was rescued from a man who obviously didn't know how to treat a ten-week old baby. He was waving her in the air, walking down the street in front of an estate sale I was helping at. My friend Kerry relieved this gentleman of the kitty and she stayed with us at the sale for the day. When it came time to close up, guess who got to take the newly dubbed Graycie (she is gray) home with him?
Carl Sandberg's wonderful poem, Fog, describes Graycie to a tee. Graycie came in on little cat's feet. That is what Graycie did. She just showed up, came into our home, and stole our hearts. Sadly, I came to realize I could not keep her. She deserved a safe, secure home. Yes, mine is pretty secure for dogs. And my mature kitty, Nina, has never suffered from wanderlust. But a kitten tends to want to explore, and having lost one kitty to this proclivity in cats, I decided it would be best to find her a forever home...an place for indoor kitties who do not roam. And miracle of miracles, I found one. And Graycie left last Friday. And she loves her new home. She is happy and content. And is sorely missed.
Two weeks was all she was here. Tiime is not what dictates the attachments of the heart. Fortunately she is close by and I will know how she is doing, and perhaps get to visit her. I wonder, though, if she will remember me? Will she remember the dogs and the rescue and all of the events of her young life so far? Time will tell. The important thing, though, is that she is happy. And the memory of her will always warm my heart.
BY CARL SANDBURG
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Recently, a little kitten came into my life for a short time, changing everything. She was rescued from a man who obviously didn't know how to treat a ten-week old baby. He was waving her in the air, walking down the street in front of an estate sale I was helping at. My friend Kerry relieved this gentleman of the kitty and she stayed with us at the sale for the day. When it came time to close up, guess who got to take the newly dubbed Graycie (she is gray) home with him?
Carl Sandberg's wonderful poem, Fog, describes Graycie to a tee. Graycie came in on little cat's feet. That is what Graycie did. She just showed up, came into our home, and stole our hearts. Sadly, I came to realize I could not keep her. She deserved a safe, secure home. Yes, mine is pretty secure for dogs. And my mature kitty, Nina, has never suffered from wanderlust. But a kitten tends to want to explore, and having lost one kitty to this proclivity in cats, I decided it would be best to find her a forever home...an place for indoor kitties who do not roam. And miracle of miracles, I found one. And Graycie left last Friday. And she loves her new home. She is happy and content. And is sorely missed.
Two weeks was all she was here. Tiime is not what dictates the attachments of the heart. Fortunately she is close by and I will know how she is doing, and perhaps get to visit her. I wonder, though, if she will remember me? Will she remember the dogs and the rescue and all of the events of her young life so far? Time will tell. The important thing, though, is that she is happy. And the memory of her will always warm my heart.
