Joey went out on a Friday evening
He did not return the following day
By Sunday I knew he was in trouble.
Finally, by Monday, arriving home late
I expected him to pop from the porch
And complain in his usual protest
I am hungry, where the hell have you been.

But nothing, silence. Now it has been weeks.
I go out and call his name, come Joey.
I check is favorite haunts, likely stalks
I left food where only Joey would look. 
Sometimes I think I hear a single cry
Or is it just my imagination? 
I pray that Joey will come home today.

Each morning I go and check the food bowl.
Finally the food looked disturbed, but alas
Blue Jays eat anything, even cat food!
Joey, he was the cat I loved to hate.
Clawing the carpet, leaving tufts of hair
Or weaving around my legs on the stairs.
Not quite sure if it was just affection.

He would trail Misty on our daily walks,
Hearing “You know there’s a cat behind you”. 
Sometimes he would sneak up on poor Misty,
Then the pounce. It was fun to watch them play.
I still hope I'll see him again someday.
But I know 5 minutes later, he'll do 
Something so I wish he would go away.

David Gray