Not a registered breed but a feline mongrel
A perfect Siamese but a bit heftier
With a white spot on one side
The left
Of his lip

He knew secret passageways
To escape to the wild outdoors
He could smell the good of it
We speculated
He paid the price

For months he crouched in silence
Underfoot as usual he ate his food
Until one morning he never moved
I moved him
Stiff and stark

And for years thereafter and even now
In the side pocket of my eye
He lurked as usual
His hefty bulk
Bunbury’s ghost