Once we had a kitty named Clem, whom we loved.
We would pet him.
And he would bite our fingers.
We remember how you and Clem used to play in the garden by the schoolhouse, chasing pebbles or watching grasshoppers or just lying in the sun.
One morning Papa found Clemm sleeping with his eyes open.
Clem didn't move, even when Papa pet him.
Papa knew that Clem had died.
When you woke up, Mama and Papa brought you to see Clem, so you could say "Goodbye."
Then we dug a hole in the ground, and put Clem inside. We covered him up with dirt, and while we did it we cried. Everybody wished that Clem was not dead, because we loved him so much.
Clem was a kind of pretend baby for us, before you came along. He was a very silly kitten!
When you were just a little baby, Clem would sleep with you in your crib. You loved Clem, too. He was your friend.
Now that Clem is dead, he will never wake up. His body will lie beneath the ground, and bugs will eat it.
Birds will eat the bugs, early in the dewy morning.
And so little bits of Clem will fly away with them inside their bellies, high in the sky.
Goodbye, Clem! We will always remember you.
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