Foley's Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Wiley

Once a week I get together with my old friend Hobo to enjoy a morning wall then stop at the deli for a bagel and lox. I met him outside of his famous bone bank, the basis of the Bridge economy. 

When he was mortal he was the richest dog in town and well known author. He rose from a dog tied to a tree to fame, fortune, and everything that goes with it. I have always found him fascinating., But, on this day, he was subdued.   

 When I asked why he said that his brother Wylie was due at the Bridge that day. 

 Wylie did not write books, nor was he well known. He dabbled in social media but only to keep up with old friends. As his parents got older Wylie settled down with them. He was the dog they needed. 

 Every mortal life is a song, with stunning highs, brutal lows, glorious melodies, and spectacular duets. They also have a coda, and then it ends, fading away, or with a double tap of the drums. Human songs are too short, and pet lives are a fraction of them. Some pass to the immortal side without a note of the chorus played. 

 Wylie had a long song, and he lived aware of how lucky he was with his parents, and how he loved to lead his pack and comfort his parents. One of the reasons that dogs live a short time is that we love them so hard it wears down the engine like a car always being pushed into the red. The ride won’t be long but it would be fun Wylie loved his parents hard and did not leave a drop of devotion unspent. His song ended in a flourish. It ended, as all great songs do, in tears.

 Now, Wylie’s song has begun again, the one that will accompany them through his immortal life and beyond. The song begins with great fanfare. Horns, trumpets, and trombones sound triumphantly when Wylie crosses the Bridge as the cheers of his friends almost drowned out the song. As he ran across the grass a flute accompanied his scamper, and then the strings soared as he was reunited with Hobo. It p[ayed so beautifully that we danced until Wylie grew tired and went to his new home with his caring big brother. 

 Humans sometimes you hear your angel’s song, just for a cooupole of seconds, the notes riding the breezes from the Bridge, until the song finally acccomopapnies us home