Violet le Chat
Karen Hecht Springer
May 14, 2013
Coiffed was the fur,
In the purest of pure,
White mixed with imprecise black spots,
And a bubblegum pink nose to smell the starts,
Of new beginnings with the finest of things.
Into an attic she entered this world,
Uncertainty and dangerousness unfurled,
No human being had ever been known,
And the poor little cow cat was then thrown,
To the mercy of an angel’s wings.
One day a young man trapping a squirrel,
Not at all intent on finding a pearl,
Was taken quite aback to at last find,
The mewing coming from behind,
Was the rodent at which he took swings.
So homeward bound was Violet le Chat,
And the Hollywood life began – hurrah!
Fancy Feast dinners, complete with a goblet,
Toys with real catnip, coos, and a pet,
To make up for her early sufferings.
She sniffed out the sun in the dewy dawn,
Chewed on the cool green grass of the lawn,
Frolicking in the breeze,
Stealing many a hamburger, climbing the trees,
And looping through the yard in rings.
As the majestic gates open to the Rainbow Bridge before her,
She takes one last glance back to be sure,
She sees the attic, and she sees the rolling grass,
But most importantly she sees the gift, through the glass,
And as she steps through her soul sings.
A brave man saved one tiny cow cat,
An act of kindness, she could not have imagined that,
Seventeen years before,
A hand, a chance, a love, forevermore,
In a heart now marred with life’s dings.