The Stranger I sat quietly in the security control center on a Tuesday morning staring at the monitor which showed the images of a beautiful field next to the complex in which I worked, just as I had everyday since he left my life. But on this day, instead of thinking about all the wonderful times we had together or the pain I still felt from missing him so much, my thoughts went back to the day we met. He came into my life, October of 1989. I will remember that day forever. I arrived at the South Hayward station of B.A.R.T. (Bay Area Rapid Transit), the San Francisco Bay Areas answer to Japans Bullet Train. I was dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, just back from a meeting with one of my clients. It was hot, but clear out that day with the temperature reaching 100 degrees. I had a seat on one of the benches outside the station, waiting for the bus to take me home when he appeared, begging for food from the hot dog vendor. His beauty immediately struck me. Young, sleek in body with shiny white hair. When he found that begging with the vendor futile, he began to make his rounds with everyone that was nearby. I watched in amazement at his technique for getting at peoples heartstrings, for he was already getting at mine. I tried to put my attention elsewhere by reading the bus schedule, but no sooner had I begun to locate which bus I had to take when there he was, looking up at me with the two most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. One blue and one green. He climbed up on the bench next to me for just a brief moment as if to say, Hello stranger, then got down and walked away into the station. Five minutes later, I heard the rear emergency door to the station open, then close. The very next sound I heard made me feel pity like I had never felt before. A cry of loneliness and want filled the air and I looked around to see if anyone else felt as I did. To my amazement, no one reacted. Surely they had heard the crying and felt the pain I felt. Still, no one cared. It took all the strength I had to get up and walk away saying to myself, I already have a companion at home. I saw the bus I needed to get me home, boarded and had a seat with the thought of the chance meeting I just went through still very strong in my mind. I looked back in hopes of getting one last look at the stranger, but he was not there. The bus turned onto the main road as I sat back and began trying to push him into my memory. The next thing that happened cannot be explained to this day, other than being fate. The bus made a right turn at the first corner and began going in the opposite direction that I needed to go. At that very moment, a voice inside me told me that not only was I going in the wrong direction, but that I needed to go back to the B.A.R.T. Station. And I knew why. I reached up and pulled the cord, signaling the driver to pull over at the next stop. I got off the bus and stood there in amazement as I looked up at the sign on the front of the bus. It read Tennyson West, but clearly it was the bus for Tennyson East. The driver had forgotten to change the sign. I walked back to the station and went to where I had last heard him. As I stood at an iron gate that prevented me from getting to where he was, my eyes fell on him lying in the sun. As I called to him, his ears perked up and no further prompting was needed. He got up and came directly to me, looking even more beautiful in the morning light. I reached down, picked him up and placed him firmly under my right arm. So, with my briefcase in hand, I started walking the five miles home to begin a loving relationship that would last ten years with the cat I would call Bart, in honor of the place where we were brought together. When I arrived home, almost two hours later, I placed Bart down to let him begin exploring his new surroundings. He was clearly excited at the prospects of what lie ahead. I, on the other hand, was drenched from head to toe with the sweat of walking five miles in 100 degree heat, with just as many blisters on my feet. Fives minutes later, in walks the Lord of the Castle, Bones, my other cat. A story in itself, he was named Bones because of the condition he was in when he was found. Weak and unresponsive, with his ribs pushing up against his skin. The two of them sized up each other, then settled in to become friends. Two years past as the three of us, along with Mom, who was living with me, enjoyed life together along with the laughter and tears that only pets can bring. Then the unthinkable happened. On August 15, 1991, while I was checking the messages on my answering machine, there was a message from a local veterinarian. Bones had been hit by a car. Probably a pet owners greatest fear. He had been brought to the clinic by the cities animal control only because he had a collar on with a name tag; or else he would have been immediately put to sleep. The severity of the injuries were staggering, but I begged the veterinarian to do whatever possible to save his life. For the next two months, we nursed Bones back to health with Bart standing guard over him the entire time. But the joy of having Bones back to his old self would be short lived. For less than six months later, he developed massive tumors throughout his body, and reluctantly and painfully, I made the only decision I could make, and that was to put him to sleep. I will never forget the last thing I saw when I said goodbye to Bones. Him looking up at me with those beautiful blue eyes, telling me in his own way, I love you Pop. In the days that followed, I mourned the loss of my son, not really paying attention to Bart. But he knew that I was in pain and never left my side. He was the force that got me through that terrible time. Several months passed and I began noticing that Bart wasnt around much during the day. I would often find him waiting for me when I got home from work at night, sitting on the other side of a brick wall that separated the apartment complex from a retirement home next door. I would soon come to find out that he had found and made friends with one of the tenants living there, whose name was Irene. What a beautiful lady she was. At the young age of 85, she had more energy than I had at 39. I immediately understood what drew Bart to her. I also came to realize that Irene was meant to be a part of our lives during that time. Mom had moved to Virginia to live with my sister, so Irene became our adopted Mom. Over the next year, Irene and Bart became best friends. Bart gave Irene the much needed companionship she needed, and Irene gave Bart the love and care he needed while I was at work. I didnt have to worry anymore about Bart while I was gone, because I knew he was in good hands. The time came in February of 1995, when Bart and I had to say goodbye to Irene. I had decided to move back to Virginia to be with my family. I have to admit, that next to saying goodbye to my own mother, saying goodbye to my adopted mother, Irene, was one of the hardest things I have ever done. And I can tell you that Bart was sad too. So, with my car packed and Bart in the passenger seat, we set out to drive the three thousand miles across country to our new home, Newport News, Virginia. Needless to say, the trip had its moments, but what was especially funny were the looks on peoples faces as they passed me on the freeway, catching a view of a twenty pound cat staring out the passenger window. Every chance I had, I would pull off at a rest stop that had lots of trees, grass, and bushes, so Bart could explore. He loved being in this kind of element. And because of his exploring and rolling around in the dirt, he had a consistent, crusted brown spot on the end of his nose, that I would consistently be washing off. The place in Newport News where we would be living, had all the trees and grass he could want. So Bart was in heaven every time we took a walk. Virginia is beautiful except for two things: the cold and the heat. Being from California, I had been more than spoiled when it came to the weather. Bart wasnt sure what to make of the snow. It was the first time he had encountered it, so he definitely treaded lightly. We made friends and loved being with family, but we both missed California very much. So, after two years, I again packed my car, put Bart in the passenger seat, and headed out again for the three thousand miles (this time it seemed like six thousand) back across country to California. And this time we didnt do as much stopping as before. Ive got to tell you that both Bart and I were sick of being in the car, and it would be almost two weeks before I got behind the wheel again. We both settled into our new home, with my friend Christine. Bart especially loved all the ivy and grass that was growing in the apartment complex. Everyday I would take Bart for a walk, and would love seeing him trample through the ivy and eat his fill of delectable green grass. It didnt take long for everyone in the complex to come to know the very large, white haired cat named Bart, that followed his companion through the complex like a puppy dog. They all loved him. The next two years were filled with great times together, mixed in with the not so great times when Bart would become sick. It seemed that all Bart had to do was sneeze, and he would find himself at the veterinarians office. Many times when Bart and I were alone, my mind would go down that forbidden road. The road that would cause me to think of what would happen when I had to say goodbye to him. After all, he was pushing ten years of age. Thats getting old in cat years, though I would tell myself that other cats had lived longer lives and that we had many years of life ahead of us. But time had certainly taken its toll on Bart. He was now walking slower that he had in the past, with noticeable discomfort in his hips when he would go down the stairs. His face was also missing that vibrant look that only younger, healthier cats had, as well as a drooping stomach that would shake from side to side when he ran. But even with all of the physical signs that age had given Bart, he still had a pure energy that amazed me and a sparkle in his eyes that went beyond age. I suspect now that all of the negative thinking caught up with me, for the most devastating event of my life was about to happen. On Monday, March 1st of 1999, when I came home from work, Bart was very ill. Christine told me that Bart had been vomiting since taking him for a walk. At first, I tried to think of all the easiest solutions to the problem, including fur balls or upset stomach from eating too much grass. But as the next four hours went by, Bart became worse. By then, I was afraid that Bart had been poisoned. So, Christine and I took Bart to a 24-hour veterinary hospital. What followed became my worst nightmare come true. X-rays revealed a tumor the size of a baseball growing between his liver and spleen. It also showed his heart to be one third of its normal size, which meant that he was bleeding internally. In shock, I weighed all the alternatives given to me by the veterinarian as I put Bart in the car. On the way home, my mind could not grasp the thought of losing my boy. I stayed at his side throughout the night, hoping for signs of a recovery that I knew would not happen. Morning came, and with it the overwhelming realization of what I had to do. I picked up my boy and held him close to me like never before. I kissed him repeatedly, telling him that I loved him and that I would always love him. And with tears running down my face, asked him to forgive me for what I was about to do to him. As Christine and I arrived at the veterinarian hospital, I turned to her and asked her to go in ahead of me and make the arrangements, and to tell them that I wanted Barts ashes returned to me. With those words out of my mouth, both Christine and I wept uncontrollably. As I sat alone with Bart in the car, I again kissed my son telling him that I loved him and asked that he never forget me. He turned his head to look at me with his beautiful eyes, and like a past experience frozen in time, told me with those eyes, I love you Pop. I walked into the clinic, still sobbing with tears of grief, and handed Bart over to the technicians. As I did this, Bart cried out and lost his urine over the counter. It was at that moment that life stopped for me. For I realized that Bart knew what was going to happen and that he was frozen in fear. It was also at that moment that the most unbelievable wave of guilt came over me. My boy knew he was going to die and I was letting it happen. I wanted so much to reach over the counter and take him back, to hold him in my arms and tell him that everything would be okay, and to turn around and go back home. To this day, I dont know why I didnt. I feel guilty, thinking I could have had more time to prepare Bart and myself for the inevitable. As Christine and I sat in the lobby waiting for the technician to come and get me, I remembered that I had decided long ago that this time, I was not going to make the same mistake I had made with Bones. I was not going to let Bart die alone. I walked into the room and saw Bart lying motionless on a table already stilled by the drugs to sedate him. As I sat in the chair next to him, I put my arms around him and repeatedly told him through my tears that I loved him as they gave the fatal dose of drugs intravenously. As I heard his last breath leave his body, my world shattered. I could not believe my boy was gone. For the next five minutes, I held Bart tight, feeling the warmth still in his body. I told him I would love him forever, then ran out of the room. The days that followed were nothing but a blur, as I tried to deal with my grief and guilt. A battle was going on inside me, a kind of spiritual battle. Part of me grieved over a friend that I thought I would never see again, even in Heaven, because that friend was an animal. The other part of me hoped and prayed that I was wrong, and that surely God would allow a creature that was as alive and loving as Bart was into Heaven. For me, my feelings go to the extreme on the subject. For if our animal companions do not live and reside in Heaven after they die, then Heaven is not for me. My grandmother always told me that animals do not go to Heaven because they have no souls. My grandmother, who died in 1985, now knows the real truth. Little did I know that I was about to learn the truth for myself. This battle and unbelievable grief stayed with me night and day until the early morning hours of Tuesday, March 9th, one week from the day Bart died. As I slept, I was suddenly awakened by a very familiar sensation. This was a sensation I had experienced everyday at 5:15 AM for the past two years. I lay there stunned as well as excited. Had Bart come back to let me know he was alive in spirit and doing well? The sensation was unmistakable. Bart would rub his cold, wet nose on my hand to wake me up every morning, just as he had this morning. The answer slammed into my consciousness when I turned to look at the clock. In bright, red neon colors, the time was exactly 5:15 AM! I was convinced that it was Bart that had awakened me, and not a dream. It took me a couple of days to fully realize what had happened. Bart loved me so much, that he decided to be with me in the one place he remembered as safe and warm. Since then, Barts visits have been fewer, but no less exciting. Even though he stays for only a little while, I am so thankful that he comes by every now and then to check to see that I am all right, and thankful for knowing still, how much he loves me. I now know that all these experiences occurred not only to help me realize that Bart is still with me, but to help me recover from my grief over losing him, though at times, the grief and sense of lose comes back. Living through the death of my cat and the experiences that followed has definitely changed me. Subtly in some ways, dramatically in others. I am no longer afraid of death, but am in awe of it for what it will bring and excited in knowing that at the moment of death, I will be with Bart and other loved ones again. Isnt it amazing what a person can learn and experience from having a pet. Surely, no one can come away from that experience without learning unconditional love. The kind of love a pet has for its human companion. All they ask for in return is some shelter, a little food, and some attention, (though most of us go above and beyond those requirements). All these things, and much more, I lavished on Bart. I was angry with God for taking my boy so early and so fast. But now, that anger has turned to thankfulness that He showed me that Bart is still alive and with me forever. I still have days when the pain of missing my boy is more than I can bear. But I can rely on the hope that someday soon, we will be together again. My thoughts now bring me back to the monitor showing the picture of that beautiful field, now imagining Bart playing there. A smile comes to my face.