I spiraled into a deep depression after my cat of five years passed away. Then, two months later, I received a friend request on Instagram. "Mom, send money." "I met this gorgeous calico up here in heaven. Been chasing her for ages, but she's playing hard to get." "Burn me some more of those chicken and salmon pâté cans and some freeze-dried treats. She loves those." "Love, your cat." 1 When I first saw the message, I thought it was a hallucination brought on by grief. My cat had been gone for two months. How could a cat, of all things, use a phone, let alone add me as a friend on Instagram and send me a message? But for some reason, after a moment of hesitation, I accepted the request. Maybe I wanted to see who this person impersonating my cat was, and what they wanted. Or maybe it was for the tiny sliver of hope flickering in my own heart. The profile picture was a blur of white. I had to squint to realize it was a close-up shot of a white cat, its eyes narrowed to slits. The fur was matted and dull. It was, frankly, hideous. I shook my head. Definitely not my cat. Before I could even back out of the profile, a flood of messages came pouring in. "Mom, why aren't you saying anything?" "Mom, I learned how to take selfies! I made it my profile picture. Do I look good?" "Mom, it's me! It's Jasper!" I frowned. Scammers were getting more and more sophisticated these days. They even knew my cat's name. "Mom, don't you recognize me?" "It's really me! I can prove it!" "I saved you from drowning!" "And when your scent started to fade, I helped you re-mark everything!" I paused. Those things... did happen. Sort of. "Drowning" was me taking a bath. Jasper had been wailing outside the door, and in a fit of panic, he'd launched himself into the tub, then immediately freaked out and scrambled onto my neck for safety, leaving three permanent scars. And as for "re-marking" my scent... I gritted my teeth and typed. "You peed on my brand-new sheets and you have the audacity to bring that up?" Silence for a few seconds. Then, another close-up cat selfie. "Don't be mad, Mom. Look at my new picture." The more I looked, the angrier I got, and the angrier I got, the more I wanted to cry. I ended up clutching my phone, sobbing uncontrollably. "Is it really you, Jasper? Is it really you?" This time, instead of a text, he sent a voice message. A string of familiar meows filled the air. That only made me cry harder. "I don't understand what you're saying." He typed back. "You're a silly goose, Mom." "I said, 'Don't cry, Mom. I'm always here.'" 2 I looked at Jasper's pictures over and over again. His once-soft, pristine white fur was now matted and tangled. His round belly was sunken, and one of his beautiful, mismatched eyes was swollen shut. After I asked him what happened several times, he finally, reluctantly, answered. "I got bullied." "They don't like me 'cause I'm a white cat. They won't let me eat, and they steal the crunchy birds and little treats you burn for me!" "It makes me so mad!!" "That's my stuff from my mom!" My heart ached. "How could there be such mean cats?" Jasper sent a smug-faced emoji. "Don't worry, Mom. I fought back." "And Rosie licked my wounds for me." He followed it up with a dreamy-eyed emoji. "Rosie is the sweetest, most beautiful girl cat in the entire world!" That's when I remembered the original friend request. "Jasper, how are you even able to use Instagram? And is Rosie the little calico you like?" He sent a nodding emoji. "Yep! I'm trying to win her over!" "I joined the Cat Crew recently. We do volunteer work in heaven." "Animals who do a good job get a special phone to talk to their parents!" "I missed you so much, Mom. I had to save up a lot of points to be able to talk to you." He sent a sad-cat emoji. I couldn't help it; my eyes welled up again. Jasper was the laziest cat I knew. If he could lie down, he wouldn't sit. If he could sit, he wouldn't stand. I couldn't imagine how much effort he must have put in just to talk to me. As if he could read my mind, he sent a three-second video. Another close-up selfie. In the video, he meowed twice and then gently patted the camera lens with his paw. He didn't type anything this time, but I knew what he was saying. He was saying, "Don't cry, Mom." 3 Jasper continued typing. "I have another surprise for you!" "I helped one of the old ladies in heaven catch her chirpy bird, and I got a reward!" I praised him out of habit, then remembered to ask what the reward was. But he was being mysterious. "I'm not telling!" "Go to bed early tonight! You'll find out when you're asleep!" "My phone time is almost up! I have to go." I quickly sent a few messages asking for more details, but they all came back with a red exclamation mark. I tried a dozen more times. Same result. I stared at my phone, stunned. It had all happened so fast. Was this a hallucination? Maybe I'd forgotten to take my medication again. But what if it was real? What if I could really see Jasper again? My eyes drifted to the pill bottle by the bathtub. I stood up, twisted off the cap, and swallowed a few pills before lying down on the sofa. For a long time after Jasper died, I hadn't been able to sleep. I would only pass out from sheer exhaustion, and even then, my dreams were filled with images of him in his final moments. I had grown to fear sleep. But this time was different. As I lay on the sofa, feeling the drowsiness creep over me, I felt a flicker of anticipation. 4 When I opened my eyes again, it was dark outside. I was still on the sofa. Nothing had changed. It felt as if the whole thing had been a bizarre dream. I sat up and stared blankly at the coffee table in front of me. And then, I heard a familiar meow from beside the sofa. I whipped my head around. A white cat with one swollen, mismatched eye leaped onto the sofa, its tail held high, and wiggled its way into my lap. I gasped, reaching out a trembling hand to stroke his head. "Jasper?!" The white cat purred, then rolled onto his back, exposing his belly. "It's me, it's me!" "I missed you." "Did you miss me, Mom?" I scooped him up and hugged him tight. "I missed you, I missed you so much, my baby, my sweet boy, I missed you so, so much!" Jasper let out a little meow and pushed his paws against my forehead. "Mom! I can't breathe!" Feeling his familiar warmth and softness in my arms, I started to cry again. He lifted a paw and gently wiped my face. "Aren't you curious how we can see each other?" "This is the reward I was talking about!" "The old lady in heaven rewarded me with one visit to your dreams. I had to fight really hard for this chance!" I kissed his little paw. "Jasper is the bravest kitty." But at that, his face fell, and he slumped onto my lap. His voice was small and sad. "I also made an enemy of Scar." "He was already bullying me." "And this time, I snatched this mission right out from under his nose. He threatened to beat me to a pulp when I get back." My eyes widened. There was bullying in heaven? That wouldn't do. Jasper, being a white cat, was already an easy target. And "Scar" sounded like a tough customer. What if Jasper got hurt? "What can we do? Is there anything I can do? Should I go to the temple and ask one of the gods to look out for you?" Jasper shook his head. "We're animals. Humans can't interfere with our affairs." Then, an idea seemed to strike him. He looked up at me, his eyes shining. "I've got it!" "Scar is terrified of July. If you help July with something, he'll protect me!" I nodded seriously. I would do anything to keep Jasper safe. "That's a great idea! But who is July? And what does he need help with?" Jasper leaped onto the coffee table and panted, his tongue lolling out. "July is a husky! He looks like this!" I couldn't help but laugh. "He looks so goofy." "So what's his wish?" Jasper licked his paw and then pulled out a picture of a bone from behind his back. "July lived with his grandparents. He was worried they would miss him after he passed away, so he buried his favorite big bone by the front door." "His wish is for you to find the bone and throw it through his grandparents' window." I looked at the picture and nodded. That didn't sound too hard. "Oh, and July said his grandparents live on the seventh floor," Jasper added, still licking his paw. I froze, then slowly looked up. "What did you say?" Throw a bone from the ground up to a seventh-floor window? Jasper just looked at me and nodded, his expression full of unwavering confidence. "That's right." "I believe in you, Mom! My life is in your hands!" 5 Standing in front of the apartment building, staring at the goofy-looking husky sitting serenely in front of me, I felt a profound sense of despair. To make this whole thing easier, Jasper had made a deal with the old lady in heaven. He'd catch mice for her for a month, and in return, she'd given me a potion that would allow me to hear the spirits of animals for a short time. At this moment, however, I deeply regretted drinking it. "Where did you say you buried the bone?" I asked. July trotted in a few circles, then plopped down on the asphalt curb. "I remember burying it right here! Why is it gone?" He suddenly looked up, his small, blue eyes fixing on me. "Did you steal it?" I was speechless. "I got here at the same time you did! When would I have had time to steal it? And why would I steal a bone?" But he wasn't listening. He lowered his head and prepared to charge. Even though I knew a ghost couldn't touch me, I still took a step back from the sheer madness in his eyes. Just then, he froze, his gaze fixed on something behind me. His tail started wagging furiously. I turned around and saw an elderly woman carrying a basket of groceries walking toward the building. July looked like he was about to explode with joy. "Is that your owner?" I asked. He nodded vigorously. "Grandma!" I looked from the ecstatic husky to the approaching woman. This was probably a better bet than relying on the husky's memory. My heart pounded as I approached her. "I can see your dead pet" was not exactly a great opening line. But with July's hopeful eyes boring into my back, I pulled down my sleeves to cover the old scars on my wrists and took a deep breath. "Excuse me, ma'am," I began. "Did you, by any chance, have a pet named July?" She looked at me, confused, but she answered. "Yes, I did. But he passed away. How did you know?" Seeing July's tail now spinning like a helicopter propeller, I pushed on. "He... he came to me in a dream. He said he buried a bone for you by the front door and wanted me to give it to you." The woman's expression froze. After a long moment, she pulled out her phone and showed me a picture. "You don't mean this toy bone, do you?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "It was his favorite. I found it under the doormat outside." A slow smile spread across her face. "He came to you in a dream to find his bone? He always was a forgetful boy. Silly dog." She gazed at the photo with such love, it was as if she could see the goofy husky right through the screen. Finally, she looked up at me. "Would you... would you like to come up and see him?" I glanced at the grinning, panting dog behind her and nodded. 6 The grandmother lived on the seventh floor. The doormat had a giant picture of a dog's face on it. "I had this made after he passed," she explained as she unlocked the door. "I just miss him so much." I helped her with her groceries, and July squeezed through the door behind us. The apartment was filled with pet supplies. At first, I thought she had other pets, but then I saw July excitedly pounce on a toy ball. "Mine! All mine!" The grandmother brought me a cup of tea and then showed me July's toy bone. "This was his favorite," she said, stroking it fondly. "He'd been chewing on it since he was a puppy." "Grandma," I asked gently, "doesn't it make you sad, having all of his things around?" She nodded, then shook her head. "July was a rescue. I found him in a dumpster. He was so sick, no one thought he would make it. But he did. He lived for many happy years." "When I took him in, I knew I would have to say goodbye to him someday. So, while he was alive, I spoiled him rotten. That way, when he was gone, I wouldn't have any regrets." "Seeing his toys... it used to make me sad. But now, it just reminds me of all the happy times we had. You have to move forward. I know that if July were here, he wouldn't want me to be sad." As soon as she said that, July leaped forward in a frenzy. I instinctively moved to block him, forgetting for a moment that he was a ghost. The grandmother stared at me, then her eyes widened in understanding. "He's here, isn't he? July is here." I looked at the husky, who was ecstatically licking and nuzzling his owner, and nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes. "July... how is he? What is he doing? Is he eating well? Is anyone bullying him?" I took her hand. "He's doing very well," I said softly. "He's right here next to you. And he misses you very much." She covered her eyes. "I miss him too." … When I left, July was still overjoyed, letting out happy little yips. I walked him to the curb to wait for the spirit shuttle. Before he left, he rubbed against my leg. "I'm so glad Grandma isn't sad anymore," he said. "Thank you."
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