“It’ll be your own fault if you get bit!”

Mom’s voice still echoes in my ears.

“You keep tormenting that cat and you’ll see what happens”

“Yes, mom.”

Her voice would screech and reminded me of people on amusement
rides – screaming. It was high pitched, with the lilt of an Acadian accent.
Everyone knew when I was in trouble. Everyone knew when it was
time for me to go.

“GWENDOLYN!”

“Yes, mom. I’m coming.”

Tears streaming down my face just after another episode
with the cat who jumped on my head (she would wait for
me to come around the corner of the room and pounce).

“I told you before, leave the cat alone – serves you right for
teasing her!”

“Yes, mom.”

That voice still echoes after all these years. Perhaps because it
Is so familiar. Perhaps because it is now with my
children and the new puppy (well, he’s five months old now).
Except now there is no familiar screech behind them…

“Guys leave the puppy alone, stop tormenting him. He’ll bite
and it’ll be your own fault.”

“Yes, mom.” (two voices in unison this time around).

For some reason the words don’t have the emphasis that hers did.
Perhaps it is because I lack the screeching element, the high-pitched
Acadian lilt that accompanied every word. Or perhaps it is because
I sound very unlike my mother, even with the same words.