Polly

Yesterday we said goodbye to the light of our lives. Our dear little friend has departed for the Great Cat Paradise in the Sky. No doubt she is already bossing the cherubs about and careering down heavenly corridors at breakneck pace. For fourteen years she has charmed, delighted and terrorised us and we miss her desperately.

Polly’s interests included butter, bird-watching, sitting on Peter’s feet, eucalyptus-scented tissues, brown paper bags, doorframe demolition and being fluffy. Her more egregious moments included chewing through the cord for the landline the day she moved in, biting into an artery in my hand so that it swelled to twice its natural size, establishing a small colony of mice in the house by bringing them in one live mouse at a time, and biting my ankles any time I sang or played guitar. On the plus side, she once brought me the thoughtful gift of a small dead rat and looked quite surprised when I yelled at her to take it outside. Instead she ate the tail and left me the rest.

We think Polly was about two when she shifted herself into our home and took over. We’ll never know her back story, but speculated that her previous household had moved to escape her bad behaviour. She was playful, cantankerous and completely endearing. It’s been our honour and pleasure to be Polly’s devoted staff, and while her own assessment would no doubt be ‘could try harder’, we did our best to make her happy. Farewell, little fluffy one. The house is very empty now.

This is a poem I wrote for Polly a while back. It was published in the Meow Gurrrls zine, Meowing Part 1.

 Mistress
 
My little queen
My steel-clawed directress
My feaster-in-chief
My fantail watcher, skink catcher, snoozer supreme
My  hair-shedding, door-scratching,
   skin-shredding boss of the house
Oh when I am dead, when I am finally gone
Then you may bite through  
the softest, most delicious part of my cheek
And with the diligence you show to your elegant coat  
clean all the meat from my bones

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