Forgiving Bessie

3. Ravenspond

The next morning in the early dawn hours, Bessie wakes up, frantic. Around midnight the night before, she had lifted the whimpering kitten from the shoebox she’d lined with an old wool scarf and a sheepskin hat, and fallen asleep with him snuggled into her armpit. He is nowhere to be found.

Jumping to the floor, her eyes dart from the empty box on her side table to her messy desk to her chest of drawers with the aquarium on top, across the rug to her open closet. She spies the partially open bedroom door she’d firmly shut last night.

Panic leaps to her throat. “Oh, God, no. The dog got in.” Scrambling onto her hands and knees, her eyes dart under her bed. She gasps loudly in relief.

Packer the kitten is sleeping peacefully squashed into the warm, breathing chest of the family pup, Miss Marple. The dog, a rescued mutt named for her sister’s favorite fictional detective, had apparently worked on the door until she’d managed to c***k it open, determined to take over the maternal duties for the newborn cat.

Leaving the pets in peace, Bessie pulls on her slippers and housecoat and heads downstairs to the kitchen in the back of the house. She sets a small double-boiler of water on low heat while she mixes up the formula the vet had prescribed into a measuring cup and sets it in the top pan. After a minute or so, she tests it with her finger for warmth. Carefully, she fills an oral syringe from the pharmacy with the warm formula. Turning off the heat, she pours the rest of the liquid into a cup, runs a facecloth under the hot water tap, and heads upstairs.

Back in her bedroom, Miss Marple seems to know what’s going on and carries “her” kitten out from under the bed by the scruff of the neck to where Bessie sits cross-legged on the rug. Taking the tiny creature onto the blanket on her lap, she feeds him the makeshift bottle of warm formula, refilling it as needed. Remembering the vet’s instructions, she transports the tiny creature to her clothes closet where the litter box is located. Gingerly, she rubs the cat’s bottom with the wet facecloth over the box until he pees and has a little poo.

“Well, Miss Marple, you seem to be in charge, so I’ll give him back to you.” The pup is watching her every move. “Where’s your doggie bed anyways?” She cuddles the kitten. “Oh, think I saw it in the kitchen. Come on, let’s go find it.” Still holding Packer and followed closely by the dog, Bessie heads downstairs to retrieve it and bring it back up to her bedroom.

She sets the wicker bed covered in flannel on the rug beside hers, adding the scarf from the shoebox. Miss Marple immediately climbs in, staring at Bessie intently until she lowers the kitten onto the dog’s warm fur. “There ya go, Mama Marple,” she whispers, stroking the small dog.

Bessie climbs into her own bed, immediately drifting into a deep slumber.

A tall, lanky youth drifts across her inner vision. His light brown hair sticks up in all directions; his pale eyes gaze at her with love. They are walking in a field on a late summer afternoon. She listens to the chatter of distant birds and the buzz of cicadas. Tilting her head back, she feels the warmth of the sun on her skin. He stops to pick some tiger lilies and tickles her nose with them, which makes her giggle. He takes her hand in his strong, muscled one and they walk in silence, no words necessary. Then, for some reason, he begins to walk faster than her. She tightens her grip on his fingers, but they slip away from her grasp. Desperately, she tries to catch up with him but the quicker she moves, the further away he gets. She’s running, panicking.

A tall, lanky youth drifts across her inner vision. His light brown hair sticks up in all directions; his pale eyes gaze at her with love. They are walking in a field on a late summer afternoon. She listens to the chatter of distant birds and the buzz of cicadas. Tilting her head back, she feels the warmth of the sun on her skin. He stops to pick some tiger lilies and tickles her nose with them, which makes her giggle. He takes her hand in his strong, muscled one and they walk in silence, no words necessary. Then, for some reason, he begins to walk faster than her. She tightens her grip on his fingers, but they slip away from her grasp. Desperately, she tries to catch up with him but the quicker she moves, the further away he gets. She’s running, panicking.“Jason!” she cries, “wait for me!”

“Jason!” she cries, “wait for me!”He turns for a moment, a sad smile on his face. She runs faster but still can’t catch up to him, even though he’s walking slowly. His image begins to fade in the distance, until she can no longer see him.

He turns for a moment, a sad smile on his face. She runs faster but still can’t catch up to him, even though he’s walking slowly. His image begins to fade in the distance, until she can no longer see him.“Jason, don’t leave me!” Sobbing, she crumbles to the hard, cold ground, lost and alone.

“Jason, don’t leave me!” Sobbing, she crumbles to the hard, cold ground, lost and alone.“Jason!” Bessie cries, bolting upright in her bed, eyes wide with pain. Rain pelts her window as if it’s daring her to open it and let it sting her body. Looking over at the sleeping dog cuddled with the kitten in her wicker bed, she takes a deep breath, trying to slow the tears.

The pain softens but never goes away. “Jason, how am I ever going to live my life without you?”