THE NIGHT VISITOR

 

All the females, human and feline alike, had gone to sleep while I, as our tradition, sat for awhile on the couch in front of the fire. For nearly a decade, my friend Bin and I would stand watch on Christmas Eve, chatting, imbibing in food and drink. With Bin’s passing this past May, I observed our ritual alone. It was a blustery evening, mainly wind with a bit of rain rattling against the big picture window and the skylights. I had risen to get a refill and as I opened the frig, I heard the cat portal open. Odd, I thought as I closed the door. Everyone is in but sometimes a gust of wind will do that to the cat door. Taking a sip and walking back to the couch in the Great Room, I perceived that the wind had suddenly died down. Molls and Tomi were still curled up as when I had left the room. Another step and I stopped. There was a dark shape on the couch and I could make out a familiar profile in the fire light. It was Bin.

B-Put on another log, will ya lad?
He was sitting erect like an Egyptian statue. I glanced over as I put down my drink and placed a fresh log on the fire. He moved over to the coffee table and sniffed my drink.
B-Ah yes, mother’s milk.
J- Yep. I only drink Drambuie during the winter holidays.
I reached out and brushed his cheek. He was soft and warm. He rubbed me back. As if reading my mind:
B-Yeah, I can become corporeal for a short time. It feels gooood after going without senses these past months.
J-I’ve missed you.
B-I’ve missed you, too.
He must have heard the stifled catch in my voice.
B-Now let’s not start blubbering. None of that wailing and gnashing of teeth like you did sitting on the toilet. That was touching.
J-How do you know about that?
B-Tomi heard you.
J-You’ve communicated with her?
B-Oh yes, everyone but your species can interact with the spirit world.
B-I’m sorry to have mocked your grieving. (He was sitting close and reached out a paw.) It was a bit over the top but I realize that you needed the privacy that that room provides. You know we aren’t as sentimental as you apes.
J-I’m sorry for what we did. There was no choice. There was nothing we could do to make you better. I’m sorry buddy.
B-(he put out his paw again) You did the right thing and I am thankful for it. I was in a bad, bad way. You and Mom were with me, I remember your hands on me as I slipped into the brightness. Oh, I felt such relief and it wasn’t scary at all as I have transitioned many times. Not to worry, lad. It’s ok. Have a sip.
J-It was a hard day.
B-I know. But not your first and not your last. It’s life, man.
J-Where did you go? Why are you here?
B-Well, everyone rests. Transitioning is always a shock to begin with and if one has been ill, you need to rest up and recover from that.
J-Is it a place?
B-I think it is different for all. Certainly, with your species’ pre-conceived ideas among the religious, what one experiences is varied. For me, my spirit existed in a softly lit undefined area.
B-Now, to why I am here: I am readying to transition to a new cycle. It’s time. I’m looking forward to being in a body again. I miss Mom’s lap time for example and the great food treats. I miss killing things. I miss putting my nose to wind in the air with all the aromas. I miss tearing flat out across the ground. I hope I pull a good life again.
J-Can you choose what happens? Like, not ending up in Somalia. Or placed with Abandoners.
B-Well, it’s funny how things work out sometimes. Sure, the experience with the Abandoners was lousy but I ended up with a lifelong friendship with Benny (next door neighbor) and you and Mom. BTW, my 18 years in the last cycle was the longest I have had. No doubt thanks to you guys.
J-Is there karmic impacts from the previous life?
B-For the rest of us, not really although I have seen in my cycles that the lives do get better. For you guys, I don’t know. The impact you apes have on others and the planet, one would hope that good deeds are rewarded and bad ones punished. Kinda tough when you cycle and don’t remember anything. It’s a mystery to all of us why this is so. If anyone should remember and learn from past lives it is you guys.
J-So, when do you cycle?
B-Soon and that’s why I am here. I most likely won’t see you again once I’ve cycled. I would however, remember you.
J-But I won’t remember you after I have cycled?
B-I am afraid you won’t, buddy. It’s your species’ curse.
Bin snuggled up and rolled a bit on his side and I gave him a belly rub. I pulled from my drink and we stared silently at the fire.
J-I should get Mom up to see you.
B-Naw man, there’s not time. Tell her in the morning.
J-I appreciate you stopping by. A nice, final gift from a good friend.
He sat up, stepped over to the coffee table and turned towards me, sitting upright.
B-Thank you for everything as well, my good friend. There’s something for you and Mom on the table. I love you.
J-I love you, too.
The wind gusted and I turned my head to look outside. When I turned back, Bin was gone. I poured another dram and stared into the fire, thinking about what had just happened, reminiscing about past times. It was good to see Bin again, replacing the previous final memory of witnessing his death. I fell asleep.

C woke me. As is her habit, she often sleeps in 2-3 hour stretches, wakes, hits the john to pee, goes to the frig for a drink of water. She saw that my bedroom door was open and searching, found me on the couch. She guided me to my bed where I fell into another dreamless sleep.

The next morning, I was up before the others. Got the coffee going, restarted the fire and turned on the oven for the cinnamon rolls. C was up shortly as were Molls and Tomi. Soon, we were all gathered by the fire with C and I on the couch. Coffee and rolls were sampled. The wind had died down and a bit of snow had fallen. C picks up something off the table.
C-What’s this?
In her palm was a key.
J-I dunno.
I took the key. On one side was imprinted the number 6 and the word Minffordd on the flip side.
J-Hmm, I said, sounds Welch with the doubled consonants. Go fetch your laptop hon and let’s look it up.
C-(reading) Minffordd, Wales, railway station that is the main stop to visit Portmeirion
J- Portmeirion, that’s where the Village is-you know, the one from the 60’s show The Prisoner. And 6, that was the Prisoner’s number. I bet this is a key to a lockbox in the station! I exclaimed.
C- Well how on earth did it get here?
J-(still looking at the key) I guess we’re gonna have to go to Wales. C cocks her head quizzically. I take her hand.
J-Let me tell you about the visitor I had last night.