THE WAY THINGS ARE
©2014 Ken Finton
“What are we going to tell her, John?
“We just can’t tell her that it died.
She’ll take it very hard.
It wasn’t much of a kitty, I know,
Just a little yellow cat like the ones
You see on every street at night,
The eyes sort of shining like marbles.
It always purred. It even purred while dying.
Oh, John, she’ll take it so very hard.”
“We’ll have to tell her that she’s gone.
She’ll know anyway. You can’t hide something
Like that from a child. Listen, here she comes now.”
“Where's my kitty? Is she still sick?
I dreamed about her once last night.”
“John?”
“You handle it. I’ve got the cows to milk.”
“Where’s my kitty? Is she hurting yet?”
“Honey, no, the kitty died. It won’t hurt anymore.
God has taken it away like he did Grandpa
Nearly a year ago. You remember
How it was when Grandpa left?
He was so sick and frail and coughed so hard
And couldn’t find it in himself to breathe.”
“It was my kitty. God should give him back.
He doesn’t have to take her from me.
He has lots of kitties, I have one.”
“But darling, there is nothing we can do.
She’s gone... John, help me, please.
Don’t just stand there saying nothing.”
"What can I say? You’ve said it all. She understands...”
"I want my kitty."
“But, darling, now your kitty's gone.
It cannot hurt like it did last night.
It fell asleep and cannot wake.”
“Do kitties dream when they fall fast asleep?”
“Why, I don't know, but I suppose they do.”
“Then maybe now she 's dreaming about me
And how it used to be when she was well.
Will God take care of her like I did?
Give her warm milk and scratch her ears at night?”
“Yes, of course, and give her a little house
Somewhere in the stars where she can grow
And have a family of her own.”
"He doesn't need my kitty. Why did he take her?
Why my kitty and not the one that scratches when
You try to pick her up?"
“Yes, why? I wonder why myself sometimes.
I only guess that's just the way things are.”
“I’m going to milk the cows,” John said.
