The kitten died. Probably, in its sleep, quietly, lying on the bundle of rags that served as its bed. In the cold morning, its tiny body was was stiff and its head awkwardly tilted. One of its unmoving paw was still touching the milk bowl.
It had a brief period of stay in the house – from being an abandoned, wildly meaowing, tiny kitten rescued from the backyard to being a warm ball curled up at the feet when watching TV – hardly a month.
Now it lies buried in a small pit, which will get swamped in the next monsoon, and then overgrown with weeds.
3 comments:
Nice. But should I say well written for this short obituary? How appropriate is that?
This reminds me of the following lines of Wislawa in a poem "The end and the beginning" :
"Someone has to lie there
in the grass that covers up
the causes and effects
with a cornstalk in his teeth,
gawking at clouds."
http://payingattentiontothesky.com/2010/11/18/three-poems-by-wislawa-szymborska/
I hope you wouldn't complain that I am unable get over poets. I try. But it's hard you know.
... makes me wonder what was the kitten thinking while it lay there dying, does a kitten have awarenes ...
Please come by.
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