It must be raining on Earth, because I sit with my front paws curled beneath me, waiting at the gate, just like yesterday and the day before. Many strange animals pass through the bright light and golden bars that resemble skinny aspen trees, and my whiskers twitch with wonder. Some beasts lick and groom me as they pass, and the act gives me a wave of euphoria, just like a good puddle of sun still warms my heart.
I keep watch, barely blinking, for the arrival of my parents.
Time is irrelevant now that mornings don’t begin with a frenzied rush to my mother’s bedroom and by meals that arrive in a bowl that clinks on the floor. Oddly, I feel loved and safe even though my Earth family isn’t here. My mother whispered in my ear to wait by the gate, and loyalty is my mantra. But when will she come? The sun is warm, and I fear I’ll fall asleep and miss her.
“Akua, come here,” two voices call from behind my tail, the sound intermingling as if coming from a synchronized choir, almost singsong, like birds.
I whip my head and cock my ears toward the sound. I don’t recognize their voices, but the humans look and smell familiar to me. They approach, and the woman stoops to pick me up. I don’t struggle within her arms, and she holds me close. “We’re here to take you home,” she says with a smile.
I press my paws against the woman’s chest. “What home? I’m waiting for my mom and dad. I can’t leave!” I plead, unsure if they’ll understand me.
“It’s okay, Akua,” the woman says, scratching my cheeks and chin just the way I like it. “They're not coming yet, but we’re your grandparents, and we’ve come to take you to a place of contentment, where every breath is like a silent purr. It’s heaven, Akua, and in the blink of a cat’s eye, you’ll be running into both of your parents’ arms. You’ll see,” she said, placing me back on the loamy ground.
“Follow us," said the man beside her, beckoning with his hand.
I could barely see the man's face because it was backlit by a bright light. But I trusted him.
I glanced at the gate before I followed them with my tail held high.
>^..^<
RIP, beloved Akua: extreme cuddler, gentle spirit, berserk cheek and tummy rub warrior, frenzied bedroom burster, and lover of bins, baskets, and bags. 2008-2025.
