Loving Pets to Death - 3 poems

I

A Dog Instead

I thought, after a car took Trouble out

and failing kidneys finished Snoopy II,

That a big dog might be easier.

But loving us for ten years was too much

for even a German shepherd's huge heart to survive.

Funny how kids from round the block,

kids we didn't know, came to our door asking

if Heidi would be all right to play Keep Away again.

Playing was past for her, I said over and over.

One of those boys cried, wiping tears on a dirty sleeve.

I touched his hair, told him she'd loved playing with him,

though I never knew, until then, that she had.

We banded together. Our three kids, my cold-blooded husband

with the dry eyes, and me, the one who wailed out loud,

as we drove up the mountain and sprinkled her ashes

in the stream. Run on home, I tried to say, but all I did was weep.

I half expected her to come crashing through the brush to save us.

II 

Lovey For Only A Summer

I never had another dog.

There was no way-the divorce, the move,

I never owned a home again.

It was after the children were all grown

and some of theirs too, that I went to the pound

brought home a quiet cat that spoke only

with her eyes. May I stay with you?

She had no name, her owner had died

and taken it along. She was so grateful.

She was no Trouble, nor was she Snoopy.

The second night a sound woke me

It was the cat purring, purring.

Snuggled on my bed, against my back.

I called her Lovey.

But she came with baggage,

already ill, she began to drift and lean.

She smacked the wall below the window

In mid jump. I knew. I'd seen it before.

It broke my heart to put that quiet soul,

those big, sweet eyes to sleep.

I hope her owner came to greet her.

III 

A Cat Like That

I tried to do without, but the house

Was so empty at night,

The walls seemed to lean in around me,

The silence roared in my ears.

The ad described Lovey to a tee, free to good home.

I'd always run a good home for cats.

The owners were very anxious to place her,

Drove her 50 miles to hand her over.

They had just driven away

When I touched her and Critter bit me.

This was not Lovey, a cat like that.

She bit me more times: when I touched

Her with a toe she didn't expect,

When her dish was empty in the morning,

When I wouldn't pet her with the broom.

I hated her. She was like an evil twin of Lovey.

It was scary. One day she clawed me, deep.

I grabbed her by the throat, weeping and cursing,

I was ready to do her real harm, when she put

Both front feet against my chest

And stared me down, then licked

The tip of my nose with her rough tongue.

I held her and cried, she didn't struggle.

Neither of us knew what the other had been through,

But she forgave me. I renamed her Chloe.

A new vet said it was a chronic pain disorder

It hurt her to be touched. Imagine a cat like that,

Needing touch yet so offended by it.

Poor thing, I thought.

I think she knew I understood.

She had a shot each month for it,

She began to sleep with me.

Eleven years we went on together

Down that path that takes you to only one place.

One night she woke me,

Shaking and hot, she could hardly move.

We had known for a while.

I held her like a kitten,

All night in the crook of my arm.

By morning she was quiet, awake,

Unable to move.

The vet gave me a cardboard burial box,

It was very nice, white with blue pin striping.

Inside she seemed to be sleeping

With one paw over her face, I stroked her once,

She was still warm. Sleeping peacefully,

Unconcerned by my touch. Imagine, a cat like that.

copyright by Sandy Fackler, May, 2009  all rights reserved