I, Pocket Dog, am taking over the writing from Foley Monster, who was out late last night drinking Foleytinis and is sleeping off the effects. Thankfully, no pups were waiting to take the angel oath in our district. I like days when the population here at Doggyspace doesn't grow, but I got a message from my cat friend Paddy who said a kitty I knew was crossing over. As the Doggyspace ambassador to the cats, I thought it was my duty to be there to greet the newest cat angel.
Paddy greeted me after I made the trek between the two lands. I got there minutes before the crossing over. That is when I saw my social media friend Kismet, who belonged to Momma Cynthia, crossing the Bridge with her head high.
Kismet is a beautiful siamese. It reminded me of when I met Gizmo. She was my parents' siamese in the 90s and put them off of cats for decades. Gizmo was an attack cat who liked to hide in corners, jump on his unsuspecting victims, or leap at them from her perch on a bathroom closet shelf.
When Kismet crossed the Bridge, all the pain and illness that sent the kitty to us dissipated, and she was young. Whole again, Kismet was greeted by all the pets her Mom had lost during her life, a contingent of Siamese cat representatives, and most importantly, her aunt. The latter preceded her to the Bridge and would give her a temporary forever home until she was reunited with her Mom.
All Bridge crossings are sad, but those that involve tool souls reuniting bring joy with the sadness. I was going to leave when I recognized one of the Siamese who had greeted Kismet. It was Gizmo,
I called her name. She stopped, and looked at me with her deep blue eyes, and released a tiny hiss. I ignored her act of aggression and ran down the hill to greet her. "Yes," Gizmo said. "You are the sister of that Foley, who replaced me."
I explained that Foley didn't replace her; she was just next and openly wondered if Gizmo was the one to chose Foley to help rebuild our Mom's heart: "A Yorkie?" she said dismissively. "I don't think so. I would sooner send her a pig to live with than a dog."
"Oh, pigs are cute," I said, seemingly missing the point again. "Why don't you come home with me," I said.
"I have no home," Gizmo said. "I am the wind; you can't contain the wind. Like me, it blows."
"Well, I know Blake would love to see you. And the rest of us dogs would too."
"That's the thing. They are dogs. No self-respecting cat would sit down with a bunch of dogs for dinner."
"Wel, as the Doggyspace ambassador to kitties, formally invite you to our house. I am sure Blake would make anything to want to eat."
"You can't bring the wind home with you," Gizmo said, taking a step away, and then she stopped. "Unless there is going to be fish."
I told her I was sure Blake could make some. That convinced her to accompany me home. When we entered, Blake gave her a big kiss and saw a place for her. Finding a subject we could agree upon was hard, but then I asked everyone to say their favorite memory of our Mom, and soon the stories were flowing, and we ate like a family.
Gizmo stayed until the moon was high in the sky. We wanted her to stay, but she reminded us she was the wind and had to go but would return. Once she was gone, Foley said: "I don't know if she is the wind, but she sure does pass a lot of wind."
I must say t thank you to Kismet. Her passing, while said, reunited her with her aunt and us with our kitty sister.Sometimes bad things can make good things happen