Kitty

I was walking around the block late last night with Chandler when we came across a kitty laying in the middle of the street. It's not unusual to see my neighbor's cat laying in the middle of the street late at night, he does it all the time. Except that this time kitty didn't move when Chandler sniffed it. I nudged kitty with my toe. Kitty didn't move. Kitty was dead. The only good thing about all this is that it was not my neighbor's cat. It was another black cat that I didn't recognize. I reached down, the body was still warm. So I picked it up and moved it out of the middle of the street, laying the lifeless cat down in some grass. 

I don't believe in any afterlife. I fear that when the lights go out, that is it. Done and gone. However, just in case, I whispered to the little cat that if you see a big black dog named Molly wherever you're going, don't be afraid. She won't hurt you. And then I thought about the string of cats buried along my fence, good cats that once lived with me. I secretly hope that I am wrong, that there is a place where all my lost pets can get together and be happy. I understand why people want to believe in a heaven, in some kind of place where our being lives on. I know that It makes death a bit more palatable. Anyway, like I said, I don't actually believe that when we die our consciousness lives on somewhere else. That said, later last night, in my sleep, I had a dream. A very pleasant dream. In it I was moving things around in the house, I assume in preparation for our move to Chicago. Over in the big fluffy recliner chair sat my dad. He kept asking me questions about my house. The last thing he asked was about the swimming pool.

"Did you put extra chlorine in the pool? That storm is coming."

I stood in the middle of my living room with a big box of Mark's books in my arms. I looked at my dad and told him, "Yes, the pool is all taken care of."

And then I woke up because Bette was walking on top of me. 
Good to see you again Dad.