RIP BLAKE

He came into my life at the end of a 30-year depression when my only possessions were a leaking air mattress, 3 trash bags of goodwill clothes and a pair of eroded sneakers. The woman wept when she gifted us those two furry balls: one gray, one black.  I named him and his sister after people I thought of as strong minds, hoping to somehow implant a portion of their strength in them.  At times, we were so poor Gena used torn pieces of corn tortilla for food to keep starvation away.. Not the best kitten food, but the best we had.  Pissing on furniture and fetching chains was his favorite things to do.  We brought home a puppy and he never once used his claws on him.  Ever.


You were a pacifist who lived a life of solitude and died a warrior's death, Blake.  Even though it led to your end, I was genuinely happy seeing you outside for the first time in your life and how different your energy became.  If I can track down the person that did this to you, I'll make him feel the fear you felt.  I fucking promise this.

You're finally free now, little guy.  No more anxiety.  Thank you for being my pal when most wouldn't be.  It meant a lot to me.  I will always love you.

3 responses to

  1. sam pink says:

    finna pour one out for him tonight

  2. h. says:

    Envy and Blake prance together. Feline love.

  3. Good buddies always stay near each other. I think so anyway.

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