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Nov 2011
In the pet store
My granddaughter squealing
Reaching out her tiny hand
Fingers delicately touching
Soft white and gray fur
Blue eyes staring
Crystalline clear
Weighing her every move
She, ooh’ing and aah’ing
Unaware…

Memory flashing
Hot as a gun blast
Lines of pain creeping
Over my face
Burlap bags of
Flickering motion
Gurgling sounds
Beneath wet stones
My sisters and I
Wading in the creek
Searching for minnows
Stumbling onto
Their watery graves…
My grandfather’s solution
To the newest litter of kittens
Betty Bleen
Written by
Betty Bleen
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