Another one, Tales from "Rainbow Bridge"....http://www.flippyscatpage.com/humanhearts.html
"Why did Scroedinger have to go so early?" asked Helen.
Because his business here in this incarnation was done - he captured your heart.
He ran back to Rainbow Bridge to share this special prize with all those other kitties who never knew what life with humans can be.
I can almost see him in the kitty playground, carefully taking that bit of your heart out of his secret pocket, gently handling it like precious jewel, and showing it proudly to his friends, who stare back in awe.
"This," he says, with is chest all puffed out in pride, "is the bit of human heart that I captured. Isn't it bright, and shiny? Look at it sparkle, look at it glow. Feel its warmth, feel the love".
Many of the other pets at Rainbow Bridge immediately recognised what Schroedinger had was part of a Human Heart. They recognised its look and its glow, and although they knew it was beautiful and good and warm and loving, they knew it wasn't quite as good as their very own human heart that they already had. The pets that had stolen their own sparkly thing hugged their own secret pockets, and went to spend some time reflecting quietly about their own human who would be joining them soon.
But other kitties, having never seen such a precious thing before, gathered around, sighing in awe and wonder. The gaze at it intently, with just a hint of jealousy, but mainly with the kind of wistful thinking you have when you are happy your friend has won the lottery.
A hush fills the meadow - the soft, warm glow of Helen's heart more than fills their ears, their eyes, their very souls. No-one speaks for what seems an eternity.
Eventually, a small voice comes from the back. Its a little kitten, a marmalade-coloured boy.
"But how do I get one" he asks, in kittenly innocence.
The older cats are aghast at his brazen lack of reverence for this most magnificent thing Shroedinger holds in his paw, but quickly see that there is no malice in this little kitty's question. Most of them wouldn't admit even to themselves that was the very same question that was written on their own soul.
Schroedinger smiles a wise, slightly cheeky, little smile.
"I'll tell you the secret," Shroedinger whispers.
Even the older cats move in a little, afraid that they may be seen by other cats for actually caring about this sort of thing - they had spent so long pretending *not* to care, the habit was hard to break.
"its as easy as breathing" Shoedinger announced.
The old Tom, who had been at the Bridge for as long as anyone could remember, snorted "Rubbish, nothing is that easy" he blustered.
"Ah," smiled Schroedinger, "there is a bit of trick, though"
The old Tom raised what was left of his eyebrow.
"But you have to go back down there", said Schroedinger as he pointed back down to Planet Earth, "That's the only place we know of where you can find these most precious things. There are so many different sorts, and they all have their own unique glow and sparkle, but they are all just as beautiful in their own way. This bit is just a chip, you see, a tiny tiny grain of the heart of Helen, and its sparkle is the most precious thing I have, its sparkle is the most beautiful of all I've seen, although I know each one of you has their own that is as special to you as this one is to me. You can find your own down there, and it will be whole and sparkle and shine and glow so much more than this tiny tiny piece, but you'll have to go back, and risk being hurt again."
Old Tom smiled his crooked smile, and said very very quietly "I never knew that it could be that good" as he put his first Paw on the Bridge. "Perhaps this time..." and he vanished.
Schroedinger waved a paw and the departed tom, and carefully replaced the grain of Helen's heart that he kept next to his. As the crowd of pets dissipated Schroedinger, hugged his Heart of Helen, and happily trotted off to the Butterfly Chasing Field to wait for that little grain to be reunited with the much bigger, more sparkly, part.
And down on earth, a little kitten, perhaps Old Tom, mewed softly at the great bright sparkly light of Human Heart he could feel in the hands that gently picked him out of the skip bin. He was breathing: and already sensed that somehow, this Human Heart would be his.
Copyright © Vicky Chapman
August 7, 2001