SHEBA

You were difficult to know.
So moody, so hard-ass,
but kind to the weak and feeble.
Gentle with kids and old people.
And men. 
You liked men, but
You snarled at the vet.

Your music choice was smooth jazz.
You savored chicken livers.

You insisted on wearing a leash for walks
like your friends at the dog park.

You were always your own person.
I thought we had more time.

One day you refused to eat or drink.
Your litterbox was empty.
You slept  all the time.

A vet came to see you but...
you refused her help.
She said there was
 nothing 
she could do.

You took to sleeping on my pillow,
your green velvet chair abandoned.

Early one morning.
you gave a deep, disturbing sigh...
and you were gone.

I still see you from the corner of my eye,
basking in a shaft of afternoon sunlight.
Your golden eyes and cinnamon fur
keeping me company,
though you've been gone so long.

Sheba.
We only had thirteen years.
I promised to remember you.
I do.
I remember you.

©Ellen Pepper 2026