One by one I disposed of all his things.
First the litter, then the dry food, then the treats.
I left his water bowl for last, let the water evaporate
as it sat there on the kitchen floor.
Weeks later, all that are left
are the paw prints on the windowsill,
the carcass of a plush octopus
that had once been filled with catnip,
and the unopened can of his favorite flavor
of Fancy Feast I bought for him
that final morning,
whitefish and tuna feast in sauteed
seafood flavored gravy,
just in case he was strong enough
for one last meal. One of these days
when I am brave or drunk enough,
I will pop the metal lid
and eat it for him.