In the grip of black depression,
in that anteroom of hell,
where I'd fallen,
broken lost alone unwell.

Where I'd been left to wander,
to try to find the light,
where almost I had given up,
lost my will to fight.

I didn't think I could go on,
no one would really care,
or understand the anguish
the hurt the pain the fear,

I thought tomorrow must not come,
to bring its share of pain,
the rivers depths would take me in
and end all hurt and tears.

I stumbled down toward its banks
to end this dreadful night
and then I saw her standing there,
two kittens by her side,

This tabby ragamuffin, more kitten herself than cat,
standing up to a dog
ten times her size
and not a bit fazed by that.

Quite certain was she that she would win,
this tiny scrap of bristling fur
she spat her fury at the dog
and showed no sign of fear.

All slashing claws and snarling teeth
her paw streaks out and green grass turns blood red.
The dog leaps yelping in the air
turns and runs away.

She watches for a moment
then the little cat
calls her kittens
and walks out of my sight.

The courage of this mother cat,
gave me the courage I had lacked,
I knew I'd see another day,
I knew somehow I'd find my way.

How much I owe that tabby cat.

By Grace Tolson