Goodbye to Mira the Cat

One small soul with a big heart went out on July 31, about 5:30 in the evening. Mira, our yellow male cat (11 years old) died after 5 years of on again, off again bad health. He had a rare blood disease that finally became a brain tumour. He was in no pain until the end. Our daughter called him the "miracle cat", he came back so many times.

In the evenings, he followed me to the cabin where I write. A constant companion, he liked to sit among my manuscript pages and lick the various rocks I'd collected for him. We buried him on the sidehill behind the house, where he often hunted during the day.

Right now, his sister, Jake, is sitting beside my computer, vying for my attention.

THE BEST DAYS

The best days don't begin
with grand pronouncements.
It's when the cats are content
and the house glows
like the inside of a honeycomb.
Jake sleeps stretched out on the floor
while the big male, Mira, watches her
and preens. He has been something
wholly given to me, like true love,
or a gift you didn't expect or deserve.
The best days begin
when something inside begins to glow
like the light from a single cell.

(Copyright 2004, 2007, Allan Cooper)