In the Morning

As some may know, a little more than an hour after my last post on Sunday (Fluffy's Ninth Hour) our beloved Fluffy passed away, while I held her on my lap.
This poem isn't great, but I have to post it next, for continuity's sake.
Maybe someday I'll give it a meter and rhyme upgrade.

In the Morning

Her collar and nametag worn like an armband on my wrist
The cold empty place on the bed where my shin used to warm
The saucer of milk last night she would not drink
"I called her beautiful saucer eyes,"
  She did have saucer eyes
These are the things with we mourn on this morn

The jar of her shed claws & nails,
With whiskers and scissor cut fur mats
Her dog bed matted with cat fur that we called her nest
The dozen remaining treats on the couch
These are the things with we mourn on this morn

The sound of her tag as it dinged on her dish
The mat with her name, on which we placed her bowls,
That I’m thinking of using as a floormat
In my truck ‘cause none can have her name again
These are the things with we mourn on this morn

The needle-less syringe I used to give her water on the hour
The half emptied medicine bottles in the paper bag,
  which bears her name in marker with a heart
Being asked;
  "Did you give her her insulin this morning?" in the afternoon, and
  "Did you give her her insulin this evening?" at night,
These are the things with we mourn on this morn

I lick once more the red scratches on my hand
In my mind I see her question mark tail
  Over the pink period as she walks away, 
And I remember that without the cattitude
  We would not have had a cat
For these are the things with we mourn on this day