July 2014 Pet Psychic She holds her hands above the urn on the table like hands over a fire to warm them. The ashes of a dearly departed terrier speak to her from the grave, “I am here doing fine. I love you. What a great master you were. There are others here I know. The gerbil who belonged to the little boy downstairs. The orange alley cat I used to bark at, that got run over by the garbage truck; the one we saw mangled by the curb on the way to the vet. Even the neighbor’s parrot, that big green and yellow one you hated so much. I remember how you laughed at the droppings on the old lady’s shoulder. There are lots of other dogs here, too. I’ve been talking with the ones that have been put down. They say it’s like falling to sleep, then you wake up here. It’s kind of blurry at first, then you realize there are no people, just other animals. And there’s plenty of food and sunshine. Nobody bothers anybody else. I even saw a lion lying with a lamb. Don’t worry about me. I have to go.” Her client trembles, pulls several tissues from a box on her lap, pats her eyes gently, and wipes her nose, clearing her voice and softly thanking her for this glimpse from the other side. The pet psychic says, “You’re welcome. I take cash and personal checks.” — Jonathan K. Rice
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
July 2014
O.Henry 51