A thunderstorm right over our home last Tuesday and one that rattled the windows threatening to blow out our modem, caused us to switch off our internet. Screen-free for the day, I spent my time excavating my writings from the depths of the closet. There, I discovered this memory from my childhood, and a special cat in my life, Barney.

The poem/prose was handwritten, so I have transcribed it. The original is set below this one.

Barney

He sits supreme over all,
His fur as that of a mop
Sweeps down his skeletal
body.
Still, he is king.
Half his right ear
Pricks up with alertness,
The rest had been bitten off in a territorial
battle.
He is now supreme.
Over all of them,
One-eye, Buff-head,
And the ginger cat who lives down the street.
He is victor, no one dares
to confront him.

When small, his eyes clamped shut, feeble and defenceless,
I loved him.
Cotton wool was his fur, paws as soft and pliable as velvet,
Not to mention an adorable patch upon his button of a nose.
I held him, cuddled him.
Active, bold, curious when he frolicked in the sunlight,
I watched him.
When wide-eyed and fearful caught up in a tree, no way to escape,
I rescued him.

He grew, years passed by many litters came forth, but no such kitten was as adorable as him. He became my favourite, waiting at the gate for my return from school.
Not only faithful was he, but entertaining, his squabbles with enemy cats became a spectacle and often afterwards I could be heard imitating him; I respected him.
We returned from a trip to Canberra one year, Barney was nowhere to be seen. Often lately he had been taking expeditions and for days would be missing.
This time, he never returned.
I missed him.

© L.M. Trudinger 1978
Feature Photo: Barney Portrait © L.M. Trudinger 1978

Original Poem/prose of Barney by L.M. Trudinger 1978

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Read more of my intrepid adventures with my dad and family in Central Australia in my travel memoirs:
The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981