Felix Dennis

I took a chair and threw it
Across my unmade bed
When I returned one evening,
To find my old cat dead.

Yet when an ailing neighbour
Passed on — no missiles flew.
The ties that bind are stronger
Than what we tie them to.

Stalin was my tomcat who died over thirty years ago due my stupidity and ignorance of feline symptoms. (Grit from dry cat food builds up in their urinary tract — easy to spot if you catch them lurking by kitchen sinks or constantly thirsty). The neighbour was my lovely landlady, in her late 80’s, who lived downstairs. She had accurately predicted the month of her passing. When I found her, lying peacefully in her own bed, I discovered she had carefully laid out the following items: money to pay local tradesmen, a note telling me who to call, instructions regarding her aged and nearly bald budgerigar and a suit of her best clothes to be buried in. The budgie, for which she had knitted a woollen vest through which his featherless wings poked, was buried with her.