Non omnis moriar

Saw it coming, hm?

Never saw...

THIS!

Ha ha!

Balance.

Spirits have been lifted for now,

so let's delve into my box of a life!

A few days ago, I went to the park.

As I sat there on the bench,

with that glorious sunlight on my face,

I heard a mewl from behind me.

In the bushes was this little kitten!

I've had lots of cats,

all of whom I've loved very much,

but I've always ended up giving them to the little ones

who need them more than I do.

But this was different.

This little kitten needed me.

I scrambled over to her and scooped her off the ground.

She's not very old at all. Not more than two or three months.

As soon as I picked her up, she stopped crying.

Then, she glared over at the bush again,

and I heard another sound,

another kitten,

much fainter and much sadder.

I set the first one down for a moment and crawled into the bushes,

and there was another, like I thought,

even smaller and more fragile-looking than the first.

His whimper nearly made me cry and bawl, but I gently took him out of the bush,

and saw how hurt he was.

One of his eyes is shut and scarred,

and the other is only ever half-open.

He's missing part of one ear,

and his coat is ragged,

his tail almost completely bare.

He's about as old as she is,

so I think they may be siblings,

but it's hard to be sure about these things.

I took them both home and washed them and fed them,

then brought them to a veterinarian for a check-up.

Besides his injuries, they're fine.

I haven't decided what to call them yet

(I was thinking George and Martha

or Fang and Lamb

or maybe Fange and Mamb?),

but rest assured they're in good care.

And if they don't dance, well

they're no friends of mine