"My cat Beau"

Once upon a time there was a cat named "Beau". She enjoyed three households before joining mine, her fourth. As a playful senior cat she still had the spunk of a kitten and would enjoy games of hide and seek, or better yet her version of cat and mouse. Of course, I was the mouse....
It's amazing that she had a fan club outside of her little abode. Everyone who met her thought she was beautiful. Her shimmering black fur, and small dabs of white on her paws made her so cute. She was meant to be photographed and written about. I truly wish that I had taken the time to photograph her when she was prancing about, claiming ownership to everything that was mine, and also what wasn't. Even though the photos are only in my mind, I can picture her as if she was still here, tapping the keyboard as I touched the enter key to record my miscellaneous thoughts.
A few days before she passed away, a good friend suggested that I write a book about Beau, or a poetry book. "I love reading your poetry", Philip Datillo said, who has his own book, "Buffy My Love" available at many bookstores. These pets enriched our lives in a way that only true pet lovers can understand. As I enter many contests I always wonder what words will actually flow and make an impact. Sometimes writing about a topic that is forced allows me to explore whether or not I want to stick to that particular topic.
I thought about writing a winter or snow poem for a competition, and immediately my focus was on "Beau".
I'll share a few lines of the introduction of this poem as a reminder that I have a lot more to say about Beau.


Cascading drifts cross my path as I trudge through the snow fall full of luscious snow flakes sticking to my face,
Dazzling designs that I want to study, evaporate ever so quickly,
I thought back to Beau's last day, when the hint of a perfect snow fall
was only days away, a taste of what was yet to come, and what she would never
again see;
A blanket of whiteness that would engage her snow white paws for even a minute.
As she was a curious big cat she'd jump into the powdery drift, for a second, and then would dart right back into her cozy home, and curl up effortlessly at my feet.
Now there's no more pitter patter of those soft paws to touch the snow as I thought back to her last day..
On that cold December afternoon, I wanted fur ball kitty to feel the cool winter breeze as it blew some quaint snow flakes in her direction;
little white spots upon a majestic black fur, as she swatted them away.
Perking up at the white stuff, remembering the smell of the outdoors, sniffing the air, her one last stance at the fun she had before.
Is she coming home to me, or is she going to leave and go to another place?........

I am writing as much as I can while the memories are still fresh in my mind. I'll revise the entire poem so that it is ready for submission to a poetry publication soon.
When I feel that the draft is complete I'll post the entire piece in this blog entry or another one.
Happy writing!