The box comes with a folded piece of faux-parchment attached to it with rubber bands The fold is off-center, so that the title is exposed of whatever is written on the paper: Beyond the Rainbow in suitably overwrought, Victorian-style font. I keep looking at it -- the paper is sitting next to my keyboard as I type this -- I had intended to copy it out for your amusement -- but I can't bring myself to unfold it.
When we got Jersey's ashes back last winter, I unwittingly pulled open the faux-parchment similarly attached, and read it. I was prepared to be amused, because we had already received a well-intentioned, but misguidedly form-filled sympathy card. That card, with a cover showing people playing with their pets (dogs, cats, horses) in muted, respectful, colors, reads:
Dear Amy,
The College of Veterinary Medicine recently learned from [our vet] that your cherished cat, Stray Cat, passed away. In recognition of your loss, Dr. D-- S-- made a generous donation to the Pet Memorial Program at the Oregon State University College of Veterinary Medicine...
Companion animals are dear members of our families; their loss hurts. We can't replace the bond between you and Stray Cat, but we hope you will find some solace in knowing that the friendship and feeling you shared with Stray Cat [is] being extended to other animals through the Pet Memorial Program.I giggled when I read it then, and I giggle still. So, I expected the folded faux-parchment on Jersey's coffin to be a similar poignant absurdity, like a Monty Python sketch. It was called The Rainbow Bridge, and I read it expecting an extended pablum banality about unicorns and pink ponies.
The Rainbow Bridge
There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of The Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass.
When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place. There is always food, water and warm spring weather. The old and frail animals are young again. Those who were maimed are made whole again. They play all day with each other.
There is only one thing missing. They are not with their special person who loved them on Earth. So each day they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up. The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are staring! And this one suddenly runs away from the group!
You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet, you take him in your arms and embrace. Your face is kissed again and again and again, and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting friend.
Then you cross The Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated.
- author unknownWhich it is. Carefully non-denominational, nothing specific as to species of "special friend" or even gender. Personally, too, I don't even believe in heaven, animals allowed or not.
But, boy, does this little story make me sob -- maybe because it doesn't hesitate to pull out all the stops and be, simply, what it is. It should have been particularly, cynically, funny in Jersey's case, since he never had a special person, and his final hour was hissing and clawing at the humans who trapped and ultimately chose to kill him. But in that magical land at the foot of that bridge, Jersey would, I tearfully suppose, be trusting, and happy, and grateful for the heat and food we accorded him against his better judgement.
And Winnifred's joy, as she runs towards the base of the bridge, might be alloyed when she notices, also bounding away from the group, all of the other pets I've had through the years. She was not a cat who liked to share her special people or her space with other cats. But that inconvenience, too, might be alleviated by the Bridge's magic.
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Speaking of poetry that makes us sob, even though we know that we should know better;
"Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Field
"The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and staunch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair, And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there."
"Now, don't you go til I come," he said,"And don't you make any noise!"
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamt of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue."
"Oh, the years are many, the years are long, But the little toy friends are true!"
"Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place, Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face. And they wonder,as waiting,
these long years through, In the dust of that little chair, What has become of our Little Boy Blue Since he kissed them and put them there."
*sob!*
Sorry, I can't read the end of your comment...too blurry. sniff.
Sitting in a coffee shop where there is excellent latte and wifi... trying to find a poem about a dead cat that I have somewhere at home, but can't find on the internet....
And I've had to stop because I am beginning to weep into my latte at all these poems about cats, the quick and the dead...
But here is one that's kind of seasonal. I think it's from the Golden Book of Poetry that Mom used to read to us.
It's by Elizabeth Coastworth
Cat if you go outdoors you must walk in the snow,
You will come back with little white shoes on your feet
Little white slippers of snow that have heels of sleet.
Stay by the fire, my cat. Lie still, do not go.
See how the flames are leaping and hissing low.
I will bring you a saucer of milk like a Marguerite.
So white and smooth, so spherical and sweet.
Stay with me cat, outdoors the wild winds blow.
Outdoors the wild winds blow, Mistress, and dark is the night.
Strqange voices cry in the trees, intoning strange lore,
And more than cats move, lit by our eye's green light.
On silent feet where the meadow grasses hang hoar - Mistress,
there are portents abroad of magic and might,
and things that are yet to be done. Open the door.
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