My Cat Rudy

Last Friday, I posted a poem that my older granddaughter wrote about three baby blue jays that had died on our property. Today, I'm posting a poem that she wrote while I was homeschooling her this spring and her second grade class was doing a unit on writing poetry. Today's poem is about the family cat Rudy who had to be put to sleep last year. He was the sweetest, friendliest, most loving cat. We all still miss him.

MY CAT RUDY

By JM

My cat Rudy 

Was sweet and lovey.

He rubbed against my legs

When I came home, 

Curled up on my lap and purred,

Snuggled with me in bed.

My cat Rudy

Was mischievous.

He sneaked out of the house

Running fast as a cheetah,

Hunted for mice, 

Scratched our couches.

My cat Rudy

Was my furry friend.

He died last year.

I miss him so much.

I took this picture of Rudy before he was put to sleep.

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The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Karen's Got a Blog.

A Poem for Three Baby Birds

I haven't contributed to Poetry Friday in months. I had had plans for National Poetry Month--but COVID-19 dashed them. When schools closed here in early March, I became my older granddaughter's second grade teacher. I have enjoyed working with her--especially helping her to learn about writing poetry. Teaching, however, has been time consuming. My husband and I have also been providing fulltime daycare for both of our granddaughters as our daughter and son-in-law are considered to be essential workers.

A few weeks ago, three baby blue jays fell out of a tree on our property. We noticed that there was a hole in the middle of the birds' nest. My granddaughters were distraught. My husband, daughter, and I did our best to keep the babies alive. We got information on what to do from our Animal Control Officer. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, the baby blue jays died. My husband made a little bird cemetery for them. We gave the birds names and buried them. My older granddaughter wrote a poem for the birds.



A Poem for Three Baby Birds

By JM

One day I found you, little birdies,

on the ground beneath a tree.

You fell out of your nest.

Where were your mom and dad?

I took you into my barn.

My grandpa fed you!

You were so cute when you fell asleep.

You little birdies snuggled with each other.

The next morning it was time

to make you a nest in a pot.

My mom put you in the pot.

Then my grandpa

hung you back up in the tree

close to your nest.

Three days later my grandpa 

told us you had died.

We buried you in the ground.

We'll never hear you sing.

We hope you rest in peace, little birdies.

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Tricia has the Poetry Friday Roundup at The Miss Rumphius Effect.