Letter to a limp little creature
Date:03/07/2025
I got a flat tyre n my bike this morning, so I walked the way I've cycled many times before. I walked slowly, looking up to see the seagulls cycle above me as they soared in this bright white sky. The air had a sterile dampness about it, the kind that clings to your skin and hair as you walk through it. As I walked up a hill I looked to my left and that's where I saw you, resting on the pavement.
At first, I may have mistaken you for a forgotten mink glove or scarf, if it hadn't been July. I stopped and starred; it didn't take much guessing to see you were dead. A sad little creature. I couldn't help but want to get closer. No one deserves to rest on the cold hard pavement. I looked around and in my bag for some tissue to pick you up, but I gave up quickly. I won't offend you by touching you now. You won't be afraid of a creature so many times larger than yourself. You won't bite me in fear if I extend my hand in kindness.
I walked around your body, my steps heavy on the pavement, to reveal the little ears on your back. I scooped you up like a limp fish, your spine bent as the weight of your weak body rested on my fingers. Your fur was soft, like that cat I pet yesterday, but the cat was alive, and you are dead. But your fur was soft, like that of a live animal, but you are dead now. When I lifted you the flies around your tail dissipated like a faint memory. What sins can a creature as little as you know to commit?
I set you down on the mulch between some bushes, into what seemed like a perfect big hole. I used both my hands to dig out dirt and cover your body. How many times have you dug through this same dirt before me? Now you won't dig anymore. I completed the job with precision and a professional air, and after it was done, I turned around and kept walking — with fear of losing momentum. I stopped to smell some jasmine, guaranteed to make me feel nostalgic for the life before my own death.
Soon after, it started raining. I looked up at the emerging, blinding, heaven above me, through the trees until I reached a field. In the clearing, the wind and my hair caressed my cheek and I thought about how it may have felt to stroke your fur while you were alive.
I am very glad I buried you, you were dry when I found you. No creature deserves to rest on the cold wet asphalt in the rain. I write this with your presence still on my fingertips, on this cold rainy day, under a great white sky, and I bid you farewell.