My feline pal Fiddler, the Irish mom’s old man, died at the weekend. I liked Fiddler: he was a gentleman of a cat, treated me with respect not like the other two who tease me, play with my tail and jump on me.
He stayed by Irish mom all night as he faded and died in the morning. I knew he was gone over the Rainbow Bridge when I sniffed him. I helped bury him in a beautiful spot by a big oak tree overlooking the sea.
Sleep well, Fiddler.
An ode for all cats who have passed over the Rainbow Bridge, sung to the tune of Fiddlers’ Green.