for MandyCat 2002-16


Death by Credit Card

Her body old,
her weight gone,
frame down to bone and fur
her love for us still bright,
she was done,
had had it,

She rubbed unsteady against my ankles,
looked up
and howled piteously for release.

I felt shame
because I hadn’t loved her enough
to kill her yesterday.

Next day we lay her on vet’s table
on a warm blanket,
pet her awhile,
and talked.

I knealt
and we locked eyes,
the tip of my finger
between the pads of her paw
as she held me.

When the drug hit
I saw no fear,
she just looked up and away
in brief startle,
and was gone.

Such a small creature
for so immense an impact,
blackhole of loss.

First time I’ve paid to have love killed
and we had to put it on credit.

(for MandyCat 2002-16)

– Smith, 12.21.2017



MandyCat, 14 years old, is in the early stages of kidney failure. Doc sez she’ll be around for a year minimum, logically longer.

Strange how ties bind. When we left the country in 2006 for three years in other lands, we had to giove Lady’s cat 3po to her brothers because he was not up to travel. It was hard. So when we came back, aware we wanted to travel again if we can ever find a few pennies to keep, we decided to get a loaner cat we could give back if we left.

I tell you true, ain’t no such thing as a loaner cat. She owns us heart and mind. I’ve got my two best friends right here – Lady and MandyCat – and cannot fathom losing either.

I’ve got two sweeties, hundreds of fotos of each, and myriad poems about both. I am changed for the better due to the two.

~ ~ ~

Thoughts on the Product Line

I chant to Great Cosmic
Umbilical Cord In The Sky
somewhere over the rainbow
under the skin
dissolving inner sin
with mother’s milk
and father’s silk
such ilk
praying lost chord found
so prey unbound
as God plod trod
in sound

Save me from myself

– Smith, 5.19.2016


Lady Poems 5/10 & 5/11/2016


Walking out to the living room in the early a.m. murk, the cat’s dark shadow swimming at my feet as noticeable as a fish coming into view in the shallows of a pond.



Late winter shadows spindle
twist and ripple – trunks
whip through sunlight
in the dash of our car

Come spring, green filigree sprouts lace
on branches’ whimsy growing thicker,
clotting into mottled canopy

Trees elegant shush
as though installations on grass
mowed and dotted by Seurat
on the grounds of a
major metropolitan
art museum