I’m trying to distract myself from all the horrible events going on in this country — too many to talk about — with memories of beautiful Bandit, who still visits me in my dreams. She was the real princess, not me.

“Hello, my love…”

Little Ghost Cat,
Sometimes, I hear your gentle purr
And feel the soft touch of your fur.
Then, late at night, old memories stir
Of the friend I loved and lost.

Little Ghost Cat,
By moonlight, now you come and go
Unseen and like moving water flow
O friend I loved and lost.

(I believe this poem is attributed to Barbara Parkhill Hall)