• “Oh! I need to be loved, to be loved, to be LOVED! How lovely it’d be to be loved! Can you imagine a love so strong it swept you away from all wrong and loved you so much, so much, so much! Oh how I wished I were Loved!!” Her voice sang away all night, her fingers lightly tapping the piano’s keys. She continued with passion, with happiness:
    “Love, love, love I need you so, so much love is miss-ing in my life. How I need to be loved for life, Oh how I need a cup of love and a flight out of here! I wish I were loved, loved, loved as much as I love you.”
    With that happy last note she smiled, and gave me a pat on the head. She often turned to me for inspiration. She said I was her furry muse. “Light and so lovable,” she would say. She brought me much joy. The song she sang that night was for her daughter’s twentieth birthday. Her daughter thanked her for reminding her of such motherly love. The daughter waved goodbye afterwards. She went to some place. It was never quite explained in this household. Her mother often sang this song around the house. Anytime she tapped at or touched a key on the big instrument, I came running. Her voice was wonderful to me. I loved it most when she would wake me by removing me from my bed and placing me on the piano. It was always during those hard times when she could not think of heartfelt lyrics. I remember once she cried while she slowly but firmly touched specific keys. No singing, only occasional sobs. It was these moments that I could not watch, but how could I leave her like this. My poor friend for so many years. How old she had become. Very old.
    I often purred her to sleep and desperately tried to inspire her lyrics. But there came a day when she simply wouldn’t sing.
    I had noticed a difference in my friend since her daughter had left. I had not seen the girl since that black day. It had been a very formal goodbye, a lot of weeping but who knew that it would cause my cheery strong woman to dry up and have not but this old cat as a friend. I do not pretend to understand human emotions, but I must hear my friend sing before I go. I often tried to get into her room but a strange woman would always stop me. Saying to me that my dirty fur would only sicken the woman further. I was devastated to think that I had done this to her. I called out to her by her door. Every now and then I could hear her say, “ Let him in!”
    I could feel anger, but more so I felt an overwhelming sadness behind that door. How could I reach her? It was the door, the stranger that disrupted my unique family. The stranger may have proven to be of some help, but I know that the sight of my fur and fogging eyes could bring a smile to her. Before I go I must see this. Time and distance are things I cannot ignore.
    After two years of separation from my friend I saw her leave the room. Before she did however, she looked at me. She looked and smiled. I had to release my breath once and for all. This was what I had been waiting for. We began to sing with passion and happiness about memories long gone before I saw her step into light, so magnificent was her body and face. Then she passed and I went into darkness. A shaggy, dirty, stiff cat beneath the piano, and a lifeless old body beyond the door.