In Loving Memory of Margarita

In Russian Hill, where shadows play, 

A grey cat wandered, wild and stray. 

Margarita, her name, a tale to tell, 

Adopted by Great Aunt Eleanor, who loved her well. 

Was it the Russian novel or drink that inspired her name?

A tribute to rum, or a literary fire? 

Yet, after Eleanor’s final breath, 

Mags found her way through the veil of death. 

On the car's hood, she patiently waited, 

As Nick and Sally felt love unabated. 

To Lake Merced, she moved with grace, 

A new home found, a warm embrace. 

With Ashli, the black, they formed a clan, 

Four hearts entwined by at Felton, a purring plan. 

In youthful days, she danced through the night, 

A hunter of mice, a playful delight. 

Knocking things off shelves, her mischievous hobby quest, 

A foodie at heart, but kidney diet not so blessed. 

On Sally's chest, she’d curl up tight, 

With a rumbling purr, a comforting sight. 

A gentle paw on your thigh would convey, 

Her needs in a voice that was seldom on display. 

Bonded with black Ashli, through thick and thin, 

Together they thrived, a true family win. 

A treasure she was, a delight to behold, 

Climbing up Christmas trees, brave and bold. 

Teaching us presence, patience, and calm, 

In her corner window, she found her charm. 

A survivor, she faced the disease with grit, 

In Nick’s loving arms, she was nurtured and lit. 

On a cloudy June morning, her journey did cease, 

With ravens a-singing, she found her peace. 

So here we gather, to honor her soul, 

Margarita, dear Mags, you made us whole. 

A playful companion, forever you'll stay, 

In our hearts and our memories, you’ll never fade away.

Dr. Ken Gorczyca