Cindee & Friends

I stepped out onto the porch and gazed up at the sky.  Today, it was laden with ominous-looking clouds that went out of their way to block the sun.   Curious as I am, I raised my nose into the air and sucked in a lung full of air, making sure to take great pains in identifying any odors. 

Sure enough, my super sniffer spied something unusual, but what it was I couldn’t tell. 

“Strange,” I whispered to myself.

Truth be told, I am not sure why I whispered, I was the only one around.  The cats were all inside the house.  Maybe it was just because I felt like it.  Having settled the issue of why I was whispering I turned my attention back to the unidentified aroma that was troubling me.  I was about to imbibe some more air through my snoot when it happened.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, shooting out little vein-like streaks of electricity.  I barely had the chance to blink when the accompanying rumble of thunder rolled through the neighborhood. 

Wasting no time, I tucked my tail between my legs and sprinted towards the enclosed deck at the back of the house.  I had scarcely gotten five feet when the clouds opened and began to dump their contents.

Now, I was terrified.  You see, I am deathly afraid of water.  I closed my eyes and prepared for the inevitable, however, I was not at all prepared for what happened next.

Balls!

It was raining balls.  Diggity-dog-sized balls. 

“Heaven!”

I was about to chase some of them down when to my great misfortune another streak of electricity zig-zagged through the atmosphere and struck me directly on my tail.

/*-+-*/

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

My eyelids flew open and I bolted to an upright position so I could check out my tail.  Much to my distaste, I located it clenched tightly between Berkley’s teeth. 

The grey and white Piebald cat stared at me through wide eyes, seemingly oblivious to the pain he was causing.

“What the heck, Berkely,” I scolded him while jerking my handsome tan colered tail from the cat’s mouth.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Sorry?  What possessed you to bite me,” my voice came out in a low growl, startling not just the feline, but myself.

“I thought it was a snake,” he answered somewhat apologetically.

“A snake?  Did you not see it was attached to a dog?”

He gazed back at me stone-faced, but I could see the truth hiding behind his eyes.

“You did it on purpose didn’t you,” my eyebrows had dropped to form a rather sinister expression.

Fortunately for Berkley, my tirade was interrupted before he had a chance to answer.

“What’s going on out here?”

The voice had a familiar Latin tone to it and everyone at 6 Autumn Lane knew who it belonged to.  Before either Berkley or I could answer, the pet door swung upward and a rather large orange tabby emerged.  One look at him and we could tell he was annoyed.

“Well,” the chubby cat asked, his face demanding an answer.

“Nothin,” I answered.

“Yeah, nothin,” Berkley added with a snicker.

“Humpf!  Well, whatever your nothing is, it interrupted my afternoon nap,” the orange cat grumbled.

“Sorry, Rapi.”

Berkley’s apology was short, quiet, and to the point.  I meant to tell Rapi how sorry I was for interrupting his siesta time, but my brain had gone off on a tangent recalling the wonderful dream I had been having myself.

“Well, if you guys are done fooling around, I am going to go and finish that nap.”

I knew that tone.  Whenever Rapi used that tone, he was telling us he meant business.  Having made his point he turned to go back into the house, but before he managed to reach the door a chickadee swooped down and landed on the railing.  He stayed just long enough to chirp one word, then was off again.  Rapi turned and looked at me.

“Was that Sylvester?”

“It was,” I answered, tears pooling in my eyes.

“I haven’t seen Sylvester since, well, you know, when …”

“I know,” I said, saving Rapi the pain of having to finish the sentence.

“Who is Sylvester,” Berkely asked, his head slightly tilted and his forehead scrunched up.

“Sylvester is Cindee’s friend,” the orange cat answered while taking a seat and letting his head hang low.

“I don’t understand.”

“Mylo, you were there when they met, why don’t you tell Berkley the story.”

/*-+-*

It all began the summer that I was born.  I remember the story so well because Mommy and Daddy still talk about it to this day.  It had been a beautiful day.  It wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t too cold.  It was perfect.  Overhead the sky was the prettiest blue I had ever seen.  It had those big puffy white clouds that looked like yummy marshmallows.

We had gone out for an afternoon walk, and the neighborhood was filled with wonderful sounds and smells.  Birds were singing, people were cooking on the grill.  It was magnificent.

I stopped to let the memories flow through my mind and to catch my composure.  My beautiful brown friend had only been gone a couple of weeks.  Talking about her was still difficult.  I took a deep breath and continued.

“I bet you can’t catch me,” she said with a smile and took off running.

“I can too,” I barked back and chased after her.

She did pretty well for an old lady, but soon we both ran out of leash and broke out into mad laughter which lasted a minute or two before devolving into silence. 

I was never a fan of silence, but with Cindee, it was different.  She had this way about her.  It was like magic.  She made you feel special like you were the only dog in the world.  That’s how this moment was, but then, out of nowhere, she stopped.

“Did you hear that,” she asked turning to look at Mommy and Daddy for an answer.

“Hear what,” Mommy asked.

“Some bird is calling my name,” Cindee answered, her face covered with a wide grin.

Mommy and Daddy just looked at each other.  I knew that look too.  They thought Cindee was nuts.  Truth be told, so did I.

That’s when a small silver and white bird with a black head zoomed by and tweeted again.  Cindee and I looked at each other.  I watched as her grin transformed into a full-out smile.

“There it is again, did you hear it?”

Mommy’s mouth dropped open and Daddy’s eyes grew wide.

“Nooooooo,” Daddy mumbled.

“It couldn’t be true,” Mommy added, with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Cindee and I watched the bird circle around us and land on a nearby mailbox and called out the brown dog’s name one more time.

“We heard it Cindee!  We heard it!”

Both Mommy and Cindee danced joyfully around the street.

Each day we would go out for our walk and the bird would call for Cindee until he found her.  Over time, we would learn that his name was Sylvester and he was new to the neighborhood.  Cindee was his best friend.

The last time was saw Sylvester was the day that Cindee went to the Rainbow Bridge.  He watched from the small maple tree in the front yard as Cindee was moved to the hearse and then he followed the vehicle down the street mournfully calling out …

“Cin… dee!  Cin … dee!”

/*-+-*/

+

Upon finishing my tale, I looked up to find the two cats staring at me, tears streaming down their cheeks.  Rapi took in a deep breath, then let it out.

“She was my best friend,” he mumbled.

“She was totally cool … for a dog,” Berkley added.

“I don’t know if I will ever be the same again,” I said, putting my two cents in.

The three of us sat silently, each of us deep in thought about our friend.  Sometimes life seemed so cruel. 

“Why do we have to lose friends we love so much?”

I was just venting my frustration and had no expectations of receiving an answer, but to my surprise, the old orange cat chose that moment to speak up.

“You know, before you guys came along, there was another dog.  Her name was Cosita.  Cindee and I loved her so much and when it was Cosita’s time to go to the rainbow bridge I asked the same question, Mylo.”

I glanced over at Rapi and he smiled back.  Not a mocking smile, but a sincere smile that said I love you.

“You know what, Mylo?”

“What?”

“Cindee had an answer for me.  She told me that when we lose a friend, they are never really gone.  She told me that everything dies except for love.  Love never dies and our friends are love.

I understood what Rapi was saying, but still, it was a difficult emotion to deal with.  I was ready to think about it some more but Sylvester chose that moment to land on the chair that Daddy usually sits in. 

The bird tilted his head to the left, and then the right.  Then finally, he released his feelings in a joyful voice that filled the neighborhood calling out …

“Cin…dee!  Cin …dee!”

Click here to listen to the call of the black capped chickadee