Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Freya, the Cat

Last night, about 10:30 PM, our 19-year old cat, Freya, breathed her last.  Never a big cat, Freya has suffered from hyper-thyroidism the past three years or so.  She had shrunk to barely 5 pounds, skin and bones.  Yet, she burned brightly, defiant, loving, adventurous to the end.  Last niht, she apparently was struck down by a blood clot.  She died peacefully.

Unable to sleep, I pulled out my collection of lausaversir and discovered one I could use as inspiration and a base for a new poem for Freya.  I often thought how ironically she was named, as she could have never pulled the goddess's cart, but would have been much more at home riding by her namesake's side.

For Freya

Mice-disturber maunders
mighty flay-paw slightly
stupid in dawn's shadows
slides to bedside idly.
paws on fish-foes pillow -
purrs to master's stirring.
grumpy herring-giver
grouses at the mouse-bane.

Still remains her spirit
strong despite her slightness
Grousing yet still graceful
Gold eyes sleeps in peace now
Flaypaw goes to fiercely
Forage midst the borage
Ancient, kitten ever 
always Freya's maiden.

Freya (l.) next to a napping Mr. Cid