Words B Word, Right?. Cathy Lorraine Bagley MD

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       He lost weight making family

       run frantically around.

       Not knowing what to do

       and with no cure in sight,

       they simply gave up making

      euthanasia plans that night!

      My how fickle was this family: replacing me when gone too long, now talking of terminating Kitty because health suddenly went wrong!

      

       It angered me that a pet’s life

      around here was replaceable.

       Feeling bad that I too plotted but

      thankfully, wishes were untraceable!

       True, I wanted that cuddly kitten to leave, not die

       eventhough thoughts were fixated night and day.

       Despite jealousy and hate, when push came to shove,

       I didn’t mean for it to happen in such a horrible way!

       I heard humans one night doing something called, praying on bent knees looking up asking for a relative’s recovery. I decided with nothing to lose, I’d proceed likewise utilizing prayer after stumbling onto its discovery. The idea came to me after vocalizing desires in prayer, Maybe Kitty could keep down what I had on my plate! A voice said, “be selfish.” Scratching, I blocked it right out not wanting any responsibility for an innocent’s ill fate!

       Thinking about the tuna treat

       I looked forward to each day,

      How about sharing it with Kitty,

      came to mind right away!

       I nudged my treasured treat

       over to Kitty’s smelly sick bed.

       Offering it to him freely despite

       screaming doubts in my head.

       Finding hidden reserves

       filling to capacity his left jaw,

       Mother watched intently

      before releasing an, “Aw! What a sweet caring Cat sharing your daily treat! For that in return there will be abundant goodies to eat!” I didn’t do what I did for a reward. I hated Kitty! I felt responsible for wishing him gone. What a pity it was the human’s God who helped me

      when I couldn’t birth my own plot.

       For relinguishing one can of tuna fish out

       of gult, look what I gave up and then got:

       Adoration from family, a clear conscience-

       though now sharing the favorite pet’s spot.

       Sacrificing one delicious can af tuna fish

       meant I would gain after losing a lot!

       I learned human’s God didn’t discriminate.

       The man in the sky heard lowly little devaststed me-

       a mere non-talking cat purring softly for a wish

       eventually sparing a competitor illness setting him free!

       Peace came at a cost! Nothing’s truly free. Gain’s price was won after I lost…

       But really, did I lose?

       I’d give up my can of tuna fish

       over repeatedly if I had to

       for truer understanding

       and the chance to undo

       a bad wish,

       an evil thought

       costing one can of tuna fish

       but look what sacrifice bought!

      Shoo-Be-Doo-Be

      Shoo-Be-Doo-Be

      Many shoo-be-doo-be tunes have

      implanted themselves in my head.

       They also take forgetful Momma

       back to happier days having fed

      her memory’s lifelong blossoming fields

      still growing though more slowly expanding.

      Those tunes capture sentiments holding on

      with lures both enticing and demanding…

       Momma remembers many fond years spent frolicking;

      teasing leather-jacketed boys, sipping soda pops;

      dancing to coin jukebox selections at

      wildly popular events like sock hops.

      Regrettably, Alzheimer came as an univited guest years ago.

      But just a song or a jig from her adolescent days

      makes dull, forgetful eyes enliven with images of old!

      It’s as if her stimulated mind sheds its cloak of haze…

       hearing she-booms,she-bops andbe-doo-be’s invite my fragile beloved to break out in dance.

      Rhythms spellbind her as if enchanted by a

      Summer’s sweet, newly sprouted romance.

       Notes catapult her back in the day reminiscing

       about fast cars, oily hair; other be-doo-be things. Shoo-be-doo-bee’s tug across generational barriers

      tempting seniors, plucking junior heart strings.

       Momma says it’s funny how old tunes purposefully

      lodge themselves inside children’s far away heads.

      Parents have deja vu moments catching us sing them into

      brush mics as we mock performancers on disheveled beds.

      To me, those songs convey happier

       old-fashioned, creatively adaptive times

       in their lyrically quirky, story-telling,

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