Pandora

She used to stalk her imagination, from her perch in the shadow, on the sill, And I still step over the spot in the darkness of the grapevine Where she used to wait for anyone to pass by, while we pretended not to see her, So that she could attack your ankles and see how far she could claw you, Before you ran away. Feline objects were her enemy, and the other two hounds in her pack, Pretended to be scared of her, and they were. Little fishies were her delight, and flowers were nosed off to the side, But now the birds in the vine can relax and even go to sleep. We loved her too much, and sometimes she loved us in return Her little chirp, and her lioness purr, we can still hear As we see her sprawled out on the kitchen floor, A wolf; a tiger; and a friend. All those of allergic persuasion were magnets to her fur Peeling off her, as she rubbed and watched them grimace, too polite To shoo away such an adorable creature; but their sneezes did the rest. A piece of rope was a snake, so she jumped, And then pretended that she knew all along, just to make us laugh. We still do... ( written after my cat Pandora was killed by a car...)