Annie Mae is Very Sick

 

Annie Mae is very sick. 

She’s been to the vet twice in two weeks,

And this is after avoiding the vet for years. 

She had a fever and a UTI and 

She’s had medicine and fluids and time to heal. 

But she’s not getting any better. 

She won’t stretch. 

She won’t lay in her side. 

She’s not able to groom herself. 

She’s not able to jump. 

She’s walking weird. 

She’s lost weight. 

She’s barely eating and drinking. 

She’s barely going to the bathroom. 

She’s not going outside anymore. 

She’s not complaining. 

But she’s in pain.

And I am so very sad. 

 

Annie Mae came to us five years ago. 

I’ll never forget looking out the window and seeing her for the first time. 

We locked eyes and she meowed. 

And in that moment, I became her person and she became my cat. 

 

I have loved her something fierce. 

She’s never been sweet and cuddly, 

In fact she’s been quite feisty and spicy, 

But she would jump on my bed and bump her head into my hand and on my leg and turn circles in happiness  and make biscuits with glee until she would lay down right next to me and sleep. 

 

She would let me pet her and brush her and love on her and tell her her baby story until she was tired of it all and then she’d whap me. 

 

She would look forward to me coming home every day 

So that she could sit beside me and receive back scratches 

While I worked on my daily blackout poem. 

She may have been sleeping before my arrival—

And she had lots of good sleeping spots—

But as soon as she heard the chair creak, 

She would come sit with me. 

 

She’d tell my dad what to do—

When to feed her, 

When to let her out,

When to let her in, 

When she wanted pets. 

 

She even got my mom talking to her and looking after her. 

 

She had that way about her.

 

And her brother loved picking fights with her, 

Although she’d always win. 

 

But all that’s shifted in the past few weeks. 

And unless something drastically changes, 

I fear we may have to say goodbye to Annie Mae sooner than later. 

 

I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up late last night trying to imagine life without her—

Crying—

Grieving—

Trying to wrap my mind around it all—

Writing poems to help me process: 

 

It happened so fast. 

She was fine. Then she wasn’t. 

My sweet, feisty girl. 

 

—

 

I’ll open the attic door. 

And you’ll run inside to play. 

Pink insulation on your face. 

This time I won’t worry. 

 

—

 

You’re supposed to be in the hall.

Stretched out, showing your trap belly. 

And if I come near you, 

You scratch me. 

Because that’s what you do. 

 

—

 

He knows something’s wrong 

What do I tell your brother 

He’s looking for you 

 

—

 

Losing a pet is losing part of your heart. 

Pets are some of God’s greatest gifts 

But my goodness does it hurt when we have to say goodbye. 

 

I lay here trembling 

With quivering breath

Saltwater covered cheeks 

Maybe there’s a miracle 

Or maybe there’s not. 

 

Either way, 

Life will go on. 

It’s just that sometimes

It is so very hard.