The Bridge Is Out


Three of my cats died within  year or just over a year from each other.

They were littermates so I guess that didn’t come as a real shock, especially since they were around 17 when they passed away .

I don’t know why I went on Facebook and dutifully posted their passing, but I did. I mean, WHY? You know?

When my nephew died one of my real world friends left a crying emoji under his death announcement that I put on my wall and that was it. That’s all she had to ‘say’. That’s pretty much why I stopped speaking to her in real life and I haven’t regretted that decision to this day.

So what does this have to do with Rainbows?

Well. As my cats and my dogs passed away I got these texts and posts about our pets crossing, ‘ The Rainbow Bridge ” and my head exploded each and every effing time.

When my dog died, she passed from a bad heart. She went from being a high energy Dalmatian to a not high energy dog. I cared for her and her quality of life was good but I know she missed being able to run out the door and take a few victory laps around the block before jumping through the laundry room window and sneaking into the kitchen to do a little counter surfing before I caught her. She moved slower and her pep was gone. That had to make her sad. Knowing I couldn’t take that from her made me angry.

My other dog died when her stomach twisted. Actually. She died because I couldn’t afford the surgery. But hey. She got to cross over the Rainbow Bridge because I couldn’t come up with close to$ 8,000.00 that day to try to save her life. So there was that. Right? She got happily trot across the Rainbow Bridge. Lucky her.

The truth is, I hate that expression because my cats and dogs did not bound over the Rainbow Bridge with joy and peace in their hearts when they died.

My pets fought hard to stay in this world, they fought against illness and old joints and my bank account .

My oldest cat Wolfie was in my arms when he died.

He  turned in my arms and when we were face to face he reached up with his paw and pulled my face close and when we were nose to nose he looked me in the eye and meowed- it was a roar actually.

I still have the little scars -they are three tiny white dots on my cheek bone. Every time I see them, I think about that last moment and I”m pretty sure he was telling me something.

He was probably saying he didn’t want to bounce to heaven across the ” Rainbow Bridge”

I think he was fighting to stay and he lost.

Sure the Rainbow Bridge is a nice picture for some of us to focus on when we are parted by death from our pets.

But then there are some of us who can’t see that lovely bridge.

That’s fine with me.

I was with all of my pets when they died and the last thing we saw in those moments was each other and in my heart those images are the ones that I want to have with me and with them when it was time to go.

They didn’t see a pretty bridge leading into oblivion ( which I’m guessing is a scary place ). They got to look into the faces of their family who loved them dearly.

Knowing you were that loved can make you strong and brave and take you anywhere you have to go in this world-

and the next.

Now Appearing For One Night

RDP Wednesday: THEATRE

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Does your life really flash before your eyes just before you shuffle off this mortal coil?

I read an article where scientists and Doctors wondered if it might really be possible after they examined an EEG that was being recorded as a patient suffered a heart attack and died.

The Data in this case suggested that what they were seeing was the brain recalling memories in the same way a healthy living brain does.

I was intrigued- and I’m not a Scientist or a Doctor so I can let my imagination run wild here-

so in this thirty second window how did the Patient see his life? Old memories first? Were his memories appear in an  orderly fashion Or were they jumbled up  like  “A big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff” ?

For a split second as I read the original article I thought of my computer- and what it does when I transfer data- it works and works and when it’s done I get that message that says something about the upload or download being complete.

This is the part when I took that little step to the wild side and wondered, where then did all of that data in a dying brain go? It want’s to go somewhere, that’s what I think. The brain is storing and recalling memories but  for who? All those little brain cells know they’re in trouble and they’re trying to save- not the heart or the lungs but the memories.

It’s trying to save who you are.

Photot A.M. Moscoso

Maybe in the end we get to sit in a cool theater with red plush seats. Maybe the walls are plastered with fancy artwork. Maybe you get to sit there with a giant bowl of buttered popcorn in your lap and a soda and maybe the dogs and cats and the people who you loved the most that went on before you are there too-

and when the curtains go up, there on the screen is are  the stories that mattered to you the most- and you get to share that with them. You know to catch them up on what they missed and to remember how much fun you used to have together.

It’s a theory, it’s a dream but when it comes down to it, my guess and your guess is as good as anyone else’s- and just as valid.

The Human Remains


Photo A.M. Moscoso

There was a run of suicides on the tracks  my train uses last month- there was at least one a week.

Some people suggested that the inconsiderate jerks who threw themselves under the train should have stayed home and ‘eaten a bullet’.

My question is- which child in the video was the person on the tracks and which was the unfeeling ‘ let then eat a bullet ” child?

At what point did those people become so emotionally detached from their own sense of humanity that they allowed themselves to be torn apart by  a speeding train or would open their mouth and say without a care in the world for how it would say to a train car full of people that ‘ that  SOB should have stayed home and eaten a bullet, sorry your life sucks but I have things to do- I have a life. “

I know the person who ended their life has my sympathy- should the people who suggested that the deceased should have ‘eaten a bullet’ for the sake of the convenience of those around them have it too?

And if if I deny either of them my sympathy and caring what does that say about me? If I don’t care about myself or other people and I keep feeling that way,  do parts of my soul just die off until nothing is left except a brief residue of the better person that I could have been?


As a side note in this video:  “Anorexic” is a medical term for a symptom, the loss of appetite and interest in food. It is not the same as “anorexia nervosa” which is a psychiatric disorder. In popular/lay use, people often say anorexia when what they are actually referring to is anorexia nervosa, which is where the apparent confusion comes from.



We Talked About This

I was going through my emails and saw these  prompt titles in the subject line.

The prompts themselves are actually more detailed and are not one word prompts, but together I saw an idea come together, so I went with it:

Peter Lippmann

Before he turned away

and they both knew that this time it would  be for good

his father said,

” Pick a door, any door  slam it shut behind you. Then nail it shut, set fire to it if you

want. I think you deserve to forget it was ever here. ”


Before he turned away

and he knew he would be back again soon

he saw the smooth plot of earth next to his Father’s grave

and he hoped against hope

he would never say those words

to his own Son one day.


But he knew he probably would.


Andrew Wyeth