11-23-01 @ 3:16 am EST

I've been having thoughts about Pepper. Soon it will have been a month. For the most part, things are normal, more normal than I ever would have thought they would be. Cosmas runs around and knocks things over and breaks things. Things I would have slapped Pepper on the butt for. I don't slap Cosmas. I squirt him, and yell, and clap my hands loudly; sometimes he gets frightened and hides behind furniture. I don't want him to be afraid of me, I just want him to be good.

Sometimes I slip up and call him a she. Dad slips up even more often than I do; he calls him a she, and even calls him "Peppy" sometimes. Ma is the only one who doesn't slip up. Once in a while, not as often now, I start to say "Pe--" but cut myself off and correct myself. I can't understand why Dad has a bigger problem with this than I do.

But I wondered about Pepper one night. Where she is, how she's doing. And a vision came to me. It wasn't a vision like you see far away. It was just a thought, a vision in my head. But I so hope it's true. And isn't.

I came up with a whole story as for what happened to her after she died. She went to the same place we all hope to go to. A place where we can always be happy and loved. A place where we can have everything we could never have on Earth. She would show up and wander into someone's yard...a little farmhouse out in the country...with a field of stringbeans out back. My great grandma's house. She died several years ago. My great grandpa died before her, long ago. Pepper died in the early afternoon, but in my vision it's late afternoon or evening, and it's summery, not autumn. There are leaves on the trees, and there's a golden tinge to the air. Everything is peaceful and warm and the shadows are long. If you look carefully there are even fireflies in the air. Maybe Pepper stops to bat at one of them before it flies away.

She can hear. She can see. She doesn't wonder why.

She wanders up to the porch of the house and the door opens. It's my great grandma, and behind her, my great grandpa. I didn't know them very well and I wasn't very close to them, but I did visit their house sometimes, and had stringbeans (which I hate), and where else should they be but here? They're still old, but not as old, and they move just fine. Great Grandma bends down and puts her hands out and smiles and makes calling noises. At first Pepper stops and stares at her, not sure who she is. She's always been suspicious of others. But after a moment she knows. She knows this person is safe. She bounds up the porch and rubs her head against Grandma's hand. Grandma pets her and smiles at her and they pick her up and carry her off the porch, to the back.

There are others here. People. Family. Relatives I never knew, people who died long before I was born. And those I barely knew. My Grandpa H., who I never got along with; he would chase me with a flyswatter and make me cry. But here he's kindly and happy, and he welcomes Pepper as well. Other grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins; my murdered uncle, perhaps. I can't say, as I don't know them. But there are lots of people here, out behind the house near the stringbean field, and there are picnic tables set up with food spread out upon them. Citronella candles are lit, though there are no mosquitoes to keep away. Grandma puts Pepper down on the ground and she wanders around. People smile at her and greet her and children pet her. She purrs and rubs against legs. She isn't afraid of any of them. They all just seem right.

And over here...a black and white dog comes over to sniff her. Smokey. My dog. He died a long time ago, but here he is, the first pet to greet her. She and he never got along, but now they touch noses and she rubs her head against him as well. He pants and his tongue hangs out. His fur isn't matted as it was when we had him, and he's not chained up; he's clean and soft and runs free, not even a collar to fetter him. There is nowhere to get lost, no cars to hit him, no dogcatchers or leash laws. None are needed.

And another cat approaches...a black and white with a pink nose. Sylvester, who was hit by a car before we got Pepper, when I was a very young child. I remember tossing him into Smokey's house and watching him run out the other side. He and Pepper touch noses and sniff each other. Pepper is confused at first, meeting him, since she's never seen him before. But he seems nice. He purrs at her, and she purrs back. They frolick around a bit.

A fluffy cat named Spooky, who I have seen only in pictures...who had to be shot, before I was born. Here he is to say hello. And a dog whose name I forget, who my parents owned, also before I was born. Here he is.

And more dogs...Fifi, a little black and white cockapoo, my Grandma B.'s dog who loved to have her belly rubbed, and had to be put down...and Max, a big white mutt, another of her dogs who used to say "Hello, Mama!" in plain English, also put to sleep for tumors...and here's Laisha even, my Grandma and Grandpa H.'s German shepherd-mix, tongue lolling; I haven't seen him in so long! They all approach Pepper and tell her hello in their own ways. The cats' purrs, the dogs' panting, they all say the same thing...Hello. You finally made it.

And what's this, down on the ground, running around her feet...rodents. Hamsters and a gerbil. Bertha, Buckwheat, Thora, Flora, Fudgie, Hamm-Bamm, Pegleg, Fudgie, Tidbit, Meatball...here they all are. Running around free! Who would have thought it! But Pepper has no desire to catch them. She sniffs them instead, and they crawl around on her feet. Naughty Pegleg, the odd-gerbil-out, might even nip at her tail...but it doesn't hurt her...and she doesn't mind. Smokey rebukes him by giving him a big wet dog lick instead.

The evening comes on and the people listen to music and begin to eat. They walk around and chatter and laugh, and of course many scraps are tossed toward the animals. They eat until they're full and can eat no more, but they're not too full to play. The children play with them. There's everything a pet could want to play with. Frisbees for dogs, catnip toys for cats, little wheels for the rodents. They bound around in circles and meow and bark and squeak. Others pick them up on occasion and cuddle them or scratch them behind the ears in just that spot that every animal so badly wants scratched. The festivities last until long after it's grown dark.

Night falls and Pepper is yawning. The people are going away, back to their own houses; everyone lives in the same neighborhood, yet they are the same houses, the same places they lived in and loved when they were alive. Only...more perfect. Grandma picks up the tired cat and carries her back to the house, Smokey following. The other animals find their own ways; they've been here much longer, except for the rodents, who know their way around anyway. (They ARE rodents, after all.) Inside there is a bowl of milk waiting for her. She drinks, and then Grandma carries her to the bedroom. Here is a soft bed she can sleep on, and keep my grandparents' feet warm. As soon as they're settled she does so, kneading them until she's comfortable, then curling up into a ball. The night is warm, but not hot; Smokey lies down on the floor upon soft plush carpeting. When Pepper falls asleep, I can only hope she dreams of me...

Daylight comes. Birds are singing, and Pepper runs to the window to look out and chatter at them, tail flicking, as she used to do long ago. In the kitchen, Grandma and Grandpa are already up, making breakfast; Smokey waits patiently for his own food. He had only scraps from me when he was alive; now he eats all that he could ever want. Pepper, too. She comes into the kitchen crying for food and nobody yells at her. Grandma just smiles and fills their bowls. Pepper is the newest one here, and so Smokey has stayed to show her the way.

This is the way I sense Smokey would be.

After they eat, Grandma pushes open the door (Grandpa is sitting at the table reading the paper) and the two go outside. The sun is shining brightly and the other animals are running about playing in the grass. But Pepper doesn't want to play. Her mind is on something else. She's new here, and not sure why.

Smokey lets her know. He leads her to where she has to go. Halfway there she realizes and stops. He doesn't have to accompany her; she wants to go there alone, for now. He stays behind to wait for her, and she continues on her own.

She comes to a green hill upon which sits a single tree. The tree is gnarled and black and for some reason I can't see the leaves. I know it has them, but perhaps they are few, or I'm just not looking high enough. The hill overlooks other hills and valleys, all the same, a flowing ocean of cool green, seemingly endlessly; she can't even see the houses from which she came. The sky is clear blue and cloudless. The breeze is blowing on the grass and now even though I can't see them, I can hear the leaves, whispering in the wind. A hushing noise. Pepper makes no sound. She merely approaches the tree and sits down beneath it, in its shade. She stares out over the hills and fields and valleys. She waits.

The day goes on. The sun begins to fall. What Pepper had spent the time waiting for, doesn't come.

She gets up and wanders away from the tree, down the hill, back to Smokey, who still waits for her, lying by the path. He rises and they head back home together. At the house, there is the same party...or perhaps it is at my Grandpa H.'s house instead...or at someone else's. But the same people are there, and the same pets, and again Pepper is welcomed, scraps are tossed out, the animals and children play, and the night comes on...

The next day Pepper sits and waits on the hill. Alone. She goes back home.

And the next day there she is. She watches and waits, patiently.

Perhaps, once in a while Smokey will come with her and sit beside her and they will both stare out over the ocean of green. Waiting. Smokey still knows how it feels. He used to wait here, not that long ago, waiting for something that never came. Eventually he stopped waiting so much, and then stopped coming. He understands Pepper's need to wait. She's new here. She doesn't know how long it may be.

The days pass on, a month goes by. Does Pepper see? Does she see me now, holding and petting and speaking to a new kitten the same way I used to do with her? Is she happy for me, or is she sad? Does she feel forgotten by me?

Every day she sits on the green hill and waits. When I don't come for her...does she wonder if I have forgotten she ever existed? Does she wonder if I will ever come for her at all?

I sense that Smokey knows, and understands. He knows that I'll come...or at least, I'll try to. This was why he stopped waiting, because he knew it could be a long time before I do. He didn't give up on me. He just decided to be happy with what he has now, before him. I hope this is so. I just feel that's the way he was. He was never angry with anyone. He loved everyone. He was a good dog. Of course he will be there.

He waits with Pepper so her waiting isn't so lonely, doesn't feel so empty at the end when she heads back. He lets her know--without speaking--that she doesn't have to worry. That I haven't given up on her or forgotten about her. Only that it's not my time yet. Animals, they live so much shorter than humans do...while they wait, I go on living. He tells her that I'll be with them someday...at least, I'll try to.

Pepper may not understand him at first. She isn't sure how things work in this new place. Every day is the same as the last, yet there's no boredom. Everyone gets along. Everyone is happy, and no one is ever scolded or punished, no matter what they may do. Yet I'm not there, and neither is Dad, or Ma, or Eric, or Katchoo. She doesn't understand why we aren't there. And although she knows Smokey tells her the truth, maybe she wonders anyway. Why aren't I there? Did I just not care about her anymore? Did I replace her with this new cat, this Cosmas? Did I decide to stay here with him while she went her own way? Will I ever come to see her? Have I given up on her after all?

...I don't know if this is the way things are. Perhaps it's only my wishful thinking. But the image has stayed in my mind so vividly. I so hope that Smokey can convince her. I so hope she believes him.

I so hope she's happy there, with everything she ever needs. Yet I also hope she never forgets about me. I want her to be happy, but to not forget.

I don't want her to sit waiting for me on that green hill with its single tree for very long. Yet I also don't want her to stop waiting for me. I just don't want her to be alone while she waits.

I hope that she heads back to the house and the stringbean field and the picnic tables and citronella candles with Smokey beside her, and everyone else to greet her; yet I hope that in her heart she still waits. And knows that I'll try to be there for her.

Someday.