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The Teachings of Anna
He pulled me aside to tell me that Anna, our geriatric hamster, had fallen off the wheel-- for good. She was perfectly posed as though she knew a six year old child would see her. I spontaneously whispered thank you, as if it mattered. (A lucky spin if you ask me.) In a tight embrace we talked about the soul, the spirit, what I believed happened after the heart stops. She watched from the window as he dug a hole, buried Anna in checkbook box. We thought we'd explained it all, thought she understood Anna's death until she asked: Daddy, when are you going to let Anna out of the box? I told her outright, gently. Anna is dead, Baby. She will never move again, breathe again. She was old, her body was tired. She lived a long life, it was time for her to die. Daddy buried her-- for good. On our way home from Noah's Ark Petland she chose Katy for a name. And when Katy dies, we'll get Susie! I laughed out loud, realized that she is so much like me: ouright was what she needed, concrete facts and no fluff, toss the flowers off the grave, dig to the roots where the answers lie. ©2000 Peggy Putnam Owen | |