I had a best friend,

A friend that knew what time I came home,

A friend that comfort me when I was sick,

A friend that was more than just an animal.

 

Furby, was her name,

Furby, was her game.

she was the sun to my sunshine when it rained,

the cat I trained from kitten to cat.

I loved that cat.

 

On a dreary day,

we had to leave Furby.

She looked at me confused while I took pictures of her and kissed her soft head,

I told her, with teary eyes,

that I love her and how much she ment to me.

She looked at me calm and understanding,

but deep inside,

I still think she was confused of what was happening.

 

When we came back to the house months later,

I saw that the people took Furby's litter box and food bowl.

Furby hasen't ate in months and the people that were painting never fed her,

nor gave her love,

 or even help her out to give her a home.

 

They simply lefted her alone,

and scared,

Later in the day,

I had to let her go.

She was free from my grasp and far from me,

But I had no choice.