Sometimes we drive because we need to escape something. Sometimes we drive because we need to find something. Meaning, answers, a sign. Sometimes we drive – just to drive.
Friday the 14th of this month was just one of those nights. My faithful companion, AJ Page, and I were in deep grief. Our beloved black panther of a kitty, "Bootsie," had passed away after being very ill the late afternoon before. She was a queen among cats: knowing green eyes, a fiercely loyal heart, and the softest little front paws that she would sometimes cross demurely one over the other like a true lady. She loved people. If a guest was spending the night in the back bedroom or on the front room futon, Bootsie wanted to meet them. She was not jealous. If there was a small or a large party packed into our space, up to twenty at a time, Bootsie preferred to come out and mingle with the guests, rather than stay hidden away under a bed.
She did not push. Sometimes she would meow at you in a near whisper, her jaw moving and the sound just barely escaping her little pink mouth. More often than not, it was more conversational than complaining. If she did, it was rare, and only really in the end of her last year when her aches and pains were catching up with her. She was the only cat I have ever met in my life that did not try to nip at you – wouldn't even pretend to. You could give her tummy rubs, pick her up, pet her any which way. Bootsie was a mellow gal. Hell, she was downright stoic at times. The kind of animal companion who knew to come over quietly and give you a gently encouraging head bump if you were feeling sick or blue. She was a cuddlier, a lover. She still loved to play with string and her toy catnip "mousies." The mousies I would find lovingly placed out for me near the floor of my desk some mornings, or occasionally inside a shoe – as if she were presenting them for real.
She loved lying in the crook of AJ's arm and would hug him back, draping her full leg and paw over him to show she did not want him to move just yet. But Bootise had lived a good long life. She was 22. That's 105 in human years, according to an online cat calendar. So when she stopped being able to eat or drink, we knew.
That Friday we didn't know what to do with ourselves. All that we knew was that the apartment was far too empty, too bleak to sit in another night, feeling all of that all around us. So we got in the van and started to drive. We drove west, into the eye of a dark thunderstorm that was building. Dewey Gill was spinning great old apropos 60's numbers on WMSE: "Raining In My Heart," was one. Lightening ripped across the span of the sky. We both remarked how we'd never seen it stretch so far. This phenomenal light show continued for a good two hours. We drove through the rain, the thunder booming with such force at one point I thought that we'd perhaps run over some debris in the road. We headed north and the dramatic nature show continued. The clouds began to take on that brushed on the sky quality, where it appears as if someone has painted them there for your benefit. The healing tunes kept on coming. When we headed north and began to lose reception, we debated on whether to continue that way or follow WMSE and loop back. Tunes were our guide. They had not steered us wrong yet.
At one point, we needed to stop for gas, as the empty light had started to ding. As AJ was filling up the tank, he called for me to get out of the car. "You've got to see this outside!" he exclaimed, sounding awestruck. As I opened the car door, I was sprinkled lightly by some of the rain blowing my way. The storms were still moving, but now more to the south and east of us. Directly behind the car, I walked closer, staring at the sky. It was clearing. Dark purple and lavender clouds were swirling and parting. Vibrant wild streaks of pink, blue and gold were filling in the gaps and highlighting everything. Shapes started to form, the way clouds do.
"Omigod. Do you see what I'm seeing right now?" Came AJ's voice behind me.
Of course I did. I saw it without even trying. As we both watched our own private show unfold, my heart filled to the brim and I smiled and laughed out loud with glee. I have decided not to tell you exactly what it was that we both witnessed in the sky that night, for that is our little secret. But know this: Bootsie indeed left us with a parting gift – a sign. She shared her love for us, right until the very end. And I thank her for that.
