I've read Cat Poems by Dave Crawley hundreds of times, but somehow never really spent much time on the last poem in the collection, Tandy Is Twenty. I happened on the poem this morning just as I was updating my photo file with recent picture of Max and Micky. We adopted Micky more than 10 years ago, and for all we know he could be 20 -- he was a seasoned adult then, and is definitely a very senior cat now. Max, just four when Micky moved in, could have written a similar poem for his regular bed buddy.
Tandy is Twenty
by Dave Crawley
Tandy is twenty years old today.
Her shiny black coat is speckled with gray.
She no longer scampers with kittenish glee.
She's not up for leaping or climbing a tree.
I was just a young boy the day she was born.
The toys I gave her are tattered and torn.
Though games we played have come to an end,
she's still my companion , and I'm still her friend.
Tandy is twenty years old today.
Her shiny black coat is speckled with gray.
but stroking her neck still brings back the joy--
when she was a kitten and I was a boy.
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