You pushed into life as I slept,
flashed past in a vision,
chasing a tabby away
from our Braeburn tree.
Four years on, I recognised
your huge pirate patch
and we rushed seventy miles
to adopt you.
I will not forget -
my husband lay prostrate in ripples,
you howled ceaselessly until
they heard further along the bank
and hotfoot it to drag him out.
May you drift away in reverie
of bounding by the river with us
before you paddle in to lap.
When death arrives, leash in hand
may he gather you gently,
not with a merciful potion,
on your jungle green bed.
Eira Needham is a retired teacher, living in Birmingham UK, with her husband and greyhound, Maggie. Her other pets, leopard geckos and corn snakes, sometimes slither into a poem or two. She was Featured Writer in WestWard Quarterly and came first in Inter Board Poetry Contest, August 2017.