Gonna be a good, good morning, gonna be a good, good morning, gonna laugh all day. Gonna spend the whole darn day with you. Gonna be a good, good morning, gonna be a good, good morning, gonna dance, and bop,gonna jump, and hop. Gonna spend the whole darn day, with you. Gonna eat our lunch together,gonna eat our supper too. Gonna spend the whole darn day, with you.
I wrote this song for Gates. I sang it to him,that morning. He was my everything. He had liquid hazel green eyes, that would melt the hardest of hearts. When he looked at you he would squint sometimes. I always wondered what he was thinking, when he did that squinting thing. I wrote songs for him, always. He sat there content. He let me belt out,my craggy voice, never letting on that I wasn't the best singer in the world. I could write songs, and sang enough of a tune, that my copyrighters could establish, a decent musical piece. Gates was my biggest fan. Never saying yaay or naay. He would just listen. I secretly thought he liked the song, I hold you dear to my heart, because I love you, I hold you dear to my heart because I care, but I could never be sure. He seemed so ambivilient, when it came to my music. He just listened. Never singing along. Never singing along. He just never had it in him, to sing along.
Gates was always up for a hug. Him and I, would sit for hours together. Whenever I sang the song "He's not aware". He almost looked like he was not aware. If I sang all the words, like, " he's not aware that I'm driving my car, hes not aware that I'm going real far. Seriously, I miss him so. My biggest fan. Gates if only I could have you back in my arms again. I would never let you go outside again.
When I woke up that morning, there really was a feeling of foreboding. Something was amiss. I rolled over, and I could move my legs, that morning. He wasn't all tangled up, in the blanket with me. I looked around the house,and I couldn't find my friend Gates. I asked our roommate where he was, and he said he didn't know, and that he had seen him the night before. The NIGHT BEFORE. My heart was in my throat. Gatesy never stayed out late, he was always home by dark. His friend down the road, said he hadn't seen him either. I knew it. He was gone. I cried all day. No one, and nothing would ever replace my best buddy, my world, my companion of two years.
It's been awhile now, and every once in awhile, I look up and down the block, thinking that he will come back to me. He won't.
The garbage truck that hit him, I want to blow it up. I want to throw that garbage, trash man in the back of that truck and take him to the dump yard. I want to put my garbage where it's really hard for him to pick it up. So he can say to himself " this is where that lady and Gates used to live, I'll go the extra mile cause I ran over the love of her life, I'll walk an extra twenty steps for her, cause I'm a big fat jerk, that abolished her happiness", that's what I want that trash man to say. Yes I do.
Well it's been three weeks now. My arms ache for him. His face being rained with kisses, feeling the softness of his ears with my fingers. Lightly caressing him. All of these things I yearn for. I've never experienced a death like this before. One day here. The next gone. His little orange tuxedo. It was the cutest thing you've ever seen. Orange with the chest blazed in white. Yes, he will be sadly missed. I swept the floor today, some of his fur was in the dust pan. I wanted to keep it. I didn't. I thought to myself that maybe I should just save one little tuft of it. I never though. Will I ever find this kind of feline love again. Will there be other cats. I do not want to imagine it now. Maybe when I heal. Only then,will I be able to go the Humane Society,and browse. Browse at the kittens, with their hopefull faces. Only when the tender part of my soul, that my Gates lived in is aligned. Only then, will another fur baby come into my life. Until then R.I.P Gatesy. May heaven have a special place,with angels, that sing songs to you, my love. I will miss you for eternity, my dear little ball of fur. Your meow, your walk, your run, your special things. The trips we took in the van, across Canada. How you were so good, and always came back no matter where you were. Bringing me mice to luncheon on, if I wished to, caught fresh by you. Sharing your wet food treats, with the crows. The kind that has shredded chicken and gravey. Remember that song Gates, remember. Everybodies Crows the Blackest, your crow black too, everybodies crows the blackest, your crow eats cat food. I know if you were with me now, I could sing it, and you would recognize it. We could laugh again. Me, outloud, you inloud, Except that one time when we ran out of gas and I chased you up that hill, and everytime I went to grab you, you would run a bit faster. Then. I thought you left me, then. I went into cardiac arrest, almost, running after you Gates. That's love. Then I called you a bad name. IM SORRY GATES, if you were here, I would say I apologize to you, for calling you a little B#@#@#d. You knew I loved you. I know you loved me too. Goodbye my orange sweet pea. Goodbye my little orange coat of two colours( not many colours, just two). Good bye.