The twister flew across the meadow, past the row of tombstones, and I rode the tailwind.
He pulled up beside his grand-dam.
Watcha doin’ out here, grand-dog? he whimpered. Why out in the dark and lonely?
I’m remembering, baby, she sighed.
Those who came before, little one.
Not what, baby. Who. Before you.
They sat together a moment, and Dustin joined his ma and pup.
Got a smile for your sire? Dustin asked, licking the pup’s spotted nose.
Emery sat and gazed up at the moon, with Dustin assuming guard behind his little one.
I blew through the grasses, following the memories where they led.
What was before me? asked Emery.
Before you? Dustin whimpered. I had a cat friend. Her name was Otter.
Was she a good cat?
That she was.
And where is she now?
Don’t know, little. Not here. Maybe in the After.
How can she be in the After if she was Before? wondered Emery.
I followed the night breeze up to the moon and left the white sire and his white pup below to ponder the Big Questions. Up here, it doesn’t matter. We stop asking, because making sense ceases to matter. Let the little ones wonder! Our minds seek no more.