Smucky
2008年1月28日 星期一
An excerpt from the introduction Stephen King wrote for his novel Pet Sematary.
"Our daughter, who was eight or so at the time, had a cat named Smucky, and not long after we moved into the Orrington house, I found Smucky dead on the lawn of a house across the road. The newest animal Route 5 had used up, it seemed, was my daughter's beloved pet. We buried Smucky in the pet sematary. My daughter made the grave marker, which read SMUCKY: HE WAS OBEDIANT. (Smucky wasn't in the least obedient, of course; he was a cat, for heaven's sake.)
All seemed to be well until that night, when I heard a thumping sound from the garage, accompanied by weeping and popping sounds like small firecrackers. I went out to investigate and found my daughter, furious and beautiful in her grief. She had found several sheets of that blistered packing material which fragile objects are sometimes shipped. She was jumping up and down on this, popping the blisters, and yelling, 'He was my cat! Let God have his own cat! Smucky was my cat!' Such anger, I think, is the sanest first response to grief that a thinking, feeling human can have, and I've always loved her for that defiant cry: Let God have his own cat! Right on, beautiful; right on."
