Memorial Day

OK. Like mebbe we don’t unnerstand it all that well. But we get the idea that Beins sometimes fight and efen die ta protek their others. But we think that includes us bein protekted too. That matters ta us.

So, if we got this right, there is bunches of houses like ours tagether, there is bunches of those bunches tagether, and so on. Til there is squillions of houses inna place. An squillions of ofer Bein houses in anofer group, and mebbe they don’t get along fer some reason.

So some of them Beins hafta defend our house from ofer Beins sometimes. An sometimes they cross the Rainbow Bridge. We really dont unnerstand that very well. But The Big Thing says this is the day that we honor the Beins what gives their lives ta proteck us from other Beins an kitties and woofies an what all.

So we decideded ta write a poem. Its not veery good, cause we don’t quite unnerstand perzactly what they do. But…

Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you.

Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you.

Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you.

An when we cross the Rainbow Bridge ourselfs
An see some Bein in a uniform,
We will lick yer wounded hand in gratitude
An purr next ta you in close comfort.

An when we meet yer kitty, woof, or bun,
We will tell them that
They had the high honor
Of knowing you in the previous world.

In Memorium...

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.



With Respect for those who have given their all for freedom and the safety of their people...

The Big Thing