poor my baby..

When I was born I was like any other kitten. I was fluffy, and my eyes were closed. People came. They commented on my beautiful coat, and when my eyes opened, they admired those too.
Then I grew older. My fluffy coat evened out and became sleek, and my eyes became a shinning ice blue.
He looked at me, and it was love. He took me in. I loved him, although he was old.
I stayed with him for a few years.
Then he was gone. I waited the whole day for him.
He never came.
Some people came and put me in a box. I heard them murmering how sad it was. A stroke.
At his age.
82.
They said he should have been in a home. But he was too proud.
I was heartbroken.
We got to the shelter. I climbed into my new “home,” if you could call it that.
A small cage that reeked of fear, hopelessness, and death.
There I stayed for two long weeks.
Then you found me.
You took me in, like my old owner did, so long ago. Lifetimes, it seemed like.
You brought me to a new place. It smelled like the cage.
I was filled with dread.
You put me in a larger cage, this time with a scrawny male.
You’ve done this for years now. I’m worn out. This is my 27th litter.
27 litters.
108 kittens.
I didn’t raise any.
I can’t have any more. You know this. You take me out back.
I can only be relieved it’s all over now.
I stand proud before my fate, and wait for the soothing blackness that only death can bring.
Death is better than this life.
Ironic, isn’t it?
All this time, I thought I was blessed with beauty.
How wrong I was.
I wait for you to just do it. I can’t stand waiting any longer.
I see you pull out the needle.
Long.
Dirty.
Rusty.
It slides in painfully.
I stand until the end, wondering why.
Why he had to die.
Why you were so cruel.
Why I was sentenced to live.
I’m in heaven now, reunited with my beloved, old friend at last. I look down, watching my story being repeated with countless other cats, glad, at least, that my children,their children, are happy.
Please protect them.
Love them.
Keep them alive.