Animal Friends
Taking care of small beings heal us. I found this old poem that reminds me of the weight they carry.
Years later, she preferred not to know what became of her cat.
She shared my mornings, waking up when I was young.
Nuzzled.
My neighbor cared for her.
The lady said it ran away.
Another saw her flat body, run over.
*
Its frail body fell on the boy’s hand.
We were on the road for a short while.
Left him to friends next door.
Came back, we were told the bird died. I couldn’t understand.
Who was to blame?
A green parakeet. My only companion.
Silent.
*
The family was to bury the only dog they ever had.
Our wolf dog ate bread
from the hand of a farmer. This one poisoned.
We found her like that. Frothing.
Morsels of meat on the ground.
Nothing we could do.
—Cynthia Via
Timid Shorts is a journal of misadventures in forgotten places between the wilds of motherhood. Find me here every other Wednesday. If you like this entry, please consider subscribing, or buying me a cup of matcha. See my published writings, here. Thanks for reading!