It was a long road down to the Underworld, and an even longer one ahead, but I knew you were waiting.

Waiting, I thought, had always been one of your greatest virtues. You'd wait all day for me to come home. You'd wait all night for me to wake up. You'd wait for breakfast and greetings and love. Half of your waiting was done at my side, when I had work to accomplish or a task to focus on. But you were always patient, even if I rambled for hours, even if I was a million miles away in my mind.

The only time you didn't wait, I discovered, was the day you died.

I don't think you did it out of spite. I hope you...

I felt something was wrong and still I left you. That day I raced home with dread tight around my heart like a fist of nails, and when I slammed the door open you were gone.

You were in the living room, but you were gone.

I missed you by about ten seconds.

That's not your fault, of course. None of it is your fault.

But I can't help feeling like a failure for arriving too late. I've never really cared about being late to anything, but this was the most important moment in both our lives. It was the only one I couldn't be late for.

Yet I was.

So now I'm left with guilt. Empty arms and guilt.

I cannot continue to live like this.

I'm coming down there for you, I decided.

I'm coming down there to steal back those ten seconds.

Just to give you a kiss, just to tell you everything is going to be all right. That I love you. That I'll carry you forever in my heart and soul.

I need you to hear that, or else I'll regret myself into ruin.

It was a long road down to the Underworld.

You cannot imagine how many back alley shadows I had to bribe, how many dealings and shady questions I had to ask, just to find the right spot to slip in.

But everything is open to someone with determination. I think I used to say that to you.

There was a lot of dirt at first. It got in my mouth and eyes and nose and ears. It caked my skin, going from wet to dry to wet again. It tasted like oatmeal and autumn vegetables. I remembered your favorite food was chicken, extra dry, and I hoped that when you traveled down this road, that the taste was not too difficult for you. You always were a picky eater.

I passed several rocks, most of them indifferent, a few inquisitive, and only a handful mean-spirited.

I knew they were only a passing phase on my journey, so I didn't let them get the best of me.

Mostly.

There were caves after the soil. They glittered and called to me, promising untold wealth and grand adventure if I only stopped for a moment to admire them.

But I knew, no matter how many crystals, no matter how many precious gems, that I could not spare more than a passing glance.

"On your way back up, then," they echoed after me.

I wasn't sure if there was a way back up.

I nodded out of politeness anyway.

After the caves came the streams, which turned into rushing rivers of black and blue, and here I had to pause and strategize. Hasty fool that I am, I hadn't thought to bring a boat, and there was no ferryman there to pay for a trip across.

When I could not wait anymore I dove in, and held my breath long enough to touch the bottom and slip through.

It would have delighted you to see all the fish and wiggling weeds.

Then came the forest, and the gorgeous glowing flowers that danced and sang. I was tempted to stray, but I continued my descent.

At some point I hit bedrock and my fists and teeth could not break it. It was the first time on my journey that I spoke, to plead and beg. I made my case, and offered everything on my person for one tiny crack to squeeze through. The bedrock, like its brothers and sisters above, remained stoic through my tale, but my words reached a sliver somewhere deep within its heart, and after payment of two pennies and a small ball of string it gave a great shudder and I sucked in my stomach to pass by. Grateful, I waved at it.

The final leg was a void.

Blackness that had no end, where I lost track of time and gravity. I don't know how long I floated there, pushing with my arms and legs like a frog--it may have years or minutes--until I finally spotted a pinprick of light in the distance.

The darkness was the most cruel of all, for as I drifted it began to taunt me, a thousand whispers tickling my ears, telling me I was a fool, that everything I dreamed and wished for was in vain. How cruel it was!

It almost got to me...

Until I remembered that I was ten seconds too late.

I laughed to smother the whispers of the dark, and my laughter brought me all the way to the light, where I had to squeeze through a hole the width of my finger while the whispers scratched at my back.

On the other side were gates.

I cannot describe to you the relief I felt at the sight of them.

There was a boat in front of the gates, and several feet from it stood that damned ferryman who'd neglected his post. He was conversing with a canine the size of the Chrysler building, with three different heads and faces, and a fur coat that ranged from chihuahua to chow. Only one of the faces was focused on the ferryman, while another slept with its head against its chest. The third face, a pointed Doberman, was on guard, and it saw me immediately.

But I was no threat, and my desire for its master was only business.

The Doberman demanded three bones, one for each head, and something for the ferryman too, simply because he was there.

I have over two hundred bones, I explained, and each one of them is important to me while I am alive. If we could make an arrangement, if we could delay my payment until I died, it could have every last bone in my body, for I would have no need of them then. The Doberman weighed the option, three now versus two hundred later.

I touched its paw to seal the bargain.

The ferryman was a little more tricky.

"If your business really is that important," he said with a smug grin, "you'll have no qualms paying me now."

I gave him everything I had, including the clothes on my body, and when I was completely bare he looked at me with a curious tilt of his head, his arms full of my belongings, and had the gall to weigh my payment and find it lacking.

"It's not enough," he said with a sigh.

"You do not guard the gate," I snapped, "I've paid my way in."

"Ah, but whom do you think will cross you over the river when your soul has left its body? You will not be able to pass and pay the guard unless I'm there to drive you."

"What do you want? You can see I have nothing." I held a hand out. "Unless you need a finger or a bit of flesh."

"How long was the one you seek with you in life?"

"Twelve years."

"And how long would you search for her?"

"A thousand years--no, more."

"We'll stop at one thousand and twelve. That is my price: One thousand and twelve years of your afterlife, to sit on my boat and keep me company while I ferry souls across."

"To be paid after my passing?"

"Yes. But be warned: The dead yearn for freedom. A soul desires nothing else but to leap ashore once it's finished my boat ride. Yours will be denied that freedom, for one thousand and twelve years. You will watch countless others taste the fruit that smells the sweetest, but you will be chained to my boat, unable to leave until your service is complete."

I looked at the ferryman. He was a handsome man.

"During that time will I be allowed to see those I love?" I asked.

"Only from a distance, only if they choose to come to the edge of the shore and wave to you."

"And after our contract is fulfilled?"

"You'll be free to join them, of course."

"I agree to your terms."

The gates opened.

I was finally here, at the threshold. It had been a long road down to the Underworld, and there was one final mountain to climb. I heard the ferryman and the dog snicker behind me, but I didn't care.

I moved through a foyer of marble floors and columns, and noted the small twist of vines peeking around the corners of the great room. There were no guards at the door to the throne room, so I entered without any announcement or ceremony.

The Lord of the Underworld was sitting on his throne, tall and gaunt and stoic. On his right stood his bride, a beautiful woman of spring.

On the Lord of the Underworld's lap...

...was you.

My love, the one I sought, the one I had given so much to find.

The last time I saw you, your body had been cold and stiff. Your eyes were crusted over with yellow.

But here you were exactly as you had been in life, moving and sighing, your eyes wet and intelligent.

The Lord of the Underworld placed his hand on your head, running his fingers through your hair, rubbing gently behind your ears.

"You've been expected," the Lord of the Underworld said. His wife leaned down and whispered in his ear. "You've come to take this soul back to Earth?"

"Is that possible?" I asked, my heart suddenly full of hope.

"No," the Lord of the Underworld answered, but his voice was not unkind. "If you did not intend to take her--why travel all this way? Why give up so much?"

I looked at you, my wonderful, beautiful friend. My closest companion.

"I only wanted--" my voice trembled and I had to cough to steady it.

It was embarrassing to cry in front of the Lord and Lady of the Underworld.

"I wasn't there in time to...be with her in the end. Ten seconds made all the difference, so I've come all this way to claim them."

His wife nodded, but the Lord of the Underworld remained still.

"Do you believe I'm in the habit of allowing living souls into my kingdom? That I permit special occasions for those that are not yet my subjects--to walk into my throne room and make demands? How often have you heard of people doing such things?"

"Never."

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking--"

"You were trying to be clever."

"I did it out of love."

"You did it out of sorrow! If you truly loved her, you would not have tethered her memory to despair. You would have remembered her alive, happy, loved. Instead you waste your time with this pointless regret."

"I only thought---"

"You think her soul wants you to be sad? You think all the years she spent by your side were only done so that you would feel empty when she was gone?"

The Lord of the Underworld shook his head, and his eyes were full of disappointment.

"You'll never understand, not one of you living things, that no one wants to be remembered like that. What a waste of her memory, then, if your heart cries when you think of her name. If your joy drains to blue when you remember her face." He paused. "Why would one who loves you ever wish that? Why wouldn't it hurt her, to know that she was the cause of it?"

I grasped at straws.

"When she died--I forgot to tell the bees--"

"What does that matter? They know it all the same."

I turned to you, my love, still perched on his lap.

"Is that true?" I asked you. "Am I hurting you with my sorrow?"

You didn't say anything, but stirred from the Lord of the Underworld's lap. He tried to stop you, but his wife placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, holding him back. You leapt off of him, and as light as air you came over to me, and your paws did not make a sound on the floor.

I wanted to run to you, to bend down and gather you into my arms.

You stopped a few feet away from me, and sat and stared. I couldn't believe that you wanted to keep your distance.

"How long has it been since she departed?" the Lord of the Underworld asked.

"More than a year," I answered, not taking my eyes from you. You began to clean your front paw.

"What does it feel like?" The Lord of the Underworld asked.

"It feels like...needles in my feet and pins in my fingers. Wasps and rocks in my chest. Sometimes I forget how to laugh."

"You've lived more than a year like that? It will kill you before anything else does, you know."

"Sometimes I don't care, because I know death will bring me to her."

"Not now, after the deal you made with the ferryman."

"I'll still be close by."

"You already are. You already have been."

I broke our stare to look at the Lord of the Underworld.

"She feels my pain?"

"No. But she knows it's there."

I shook my head. "I don't want to give her any cause for grief."

"So why are you forcing her to give it to you?"

I looked back at you. Your paw was freshly cleaned. My little Harley, my marvelous darling.

"The first night I brought you home you slept in my arms," I whispered to you, "the whole night. I have the picture I took of us that morning. We look so happy to have found each other." You blinked. "The day before you died, I stayed home. I knew something was wrong. So I stayed home and held you. I even took you outside to look at the birds. Most cats run and hide when they know they're about to die. But not you. You did it in the open. I think because you didn't want me to have to look for you. You didn't want to scare me. You wanted me to know right away."

I sat on the ground, and wonder of wonders, you came to me.

My Harley cat. My kitten face. My sweet girl.

"Ten seconds too late," the Lord of the Underworld said gently, "so ten seconds is what I grant you now. Just for the audacity of it all."

Ten seconds.

It wasn't enough for words.

It was enough for thoughts.

So I thought to you:

Mostly I just miss you.

And the way you used to occupy the world.

The space around and above you.

How the sound of your voice could turn me upside down.

Sometimes I walk into the bedroom and hope to find you sitting there, lounging long and luxurious.

Remember when we'd get excited to see each other?

How your tail twitched in greeting after long hours apart

My life is certainly less bright, less comfortable, less full of love without you

I hate that what I see—what seems to be the only thing I can remember, is the way you looked the last time...

For the rest of my life I'll carry this apology, that I wasn't there to talk to you, touch you, kiss you and tell you how you've truly been my best friend, my closest companion.

I've struggled to understand where you are, what you are or IF you are...

Now I think of all the things I wanted to show you

All the love I had stored up for a lifetime...it has nowhere to go

At night and in the morning I turn over and see your empty space, you occupied it so well, and there is nothing I want except you to fill it

Our whole lives together were built upon a single promise, to be there for each other.

And in the end...

I managed to be late. To the most important day, hour, minute, second of our life together.

I'm so sorry I wasn't there to hold you.

I want you to know how much I truly cherished you, and I hope it was enough.

There were two seconds left.

I forgot to tell the bees about your passing, and it haunts me.

One second.

I miss you Harley. I love you.

No one called time. The Lord and his wife had disappeared, and you and I were alone in the throne room. You were so patient as you listened to me. I was ashamed that after all we'd been through I hadn't prepared a more succinct speech.

You moved towards me, and a shiver went through my body. I held my hand out and felt a whisper on my fingertips, the most gentle pressure of your nose against my skin.

I couldn't help it, I cried.

You pressed against my hand with your head, and I felt you, actually felt you.

I dared to lean down and you placed a paw on my face, just like you used to.

You gave a small lick on my cheek.

Kitty kisses, I used to call them. More precious than diamonds or fairy dust.

At that moment I understood. You were happy. You were happy and waiting.

Waiting for me.

To you, time would pass in the blink of an eye.

It was only I who would feel any longing or pain, because down here you had all the answers.

Life is just a blink, and time is a gust of wind.

One day I would come home, and your tail would twitch to welcome me.

I had fought my way into the throne room of the Underworld, and I had said my piece--

--and my journey to you was not complete, but only half begun.

Now, in place of sorrow, there was a promise:

See you later, alligator. After a while, crocodile.

I came to claim ten seconds. Just to tell you everything was going to be all right. That I loved you. That I'd carry you always in my heart. I needed you to hear that, or I would have regretted myself into ruin.

Ditto, you answered.

I closed my eyes...

When I opened them I was in my bed, back at my apartment.

I turned over and you were not there. You would not be there for the rest of my life.

But eternity would always be ahead.

I touched my cheek and it was slightly damp. Was it a tear, or had a small wet nose pressed against my skin?

***

I'm staring through a window at two gray kittens.

It's gotten easier, just the smallest bit. Sometimes I look at pictures of you, or I pause by your urn on the shelf.

There is a hole inside me, but it doesn't hurt as much.

The two gray kittens help. They are not you, but I am slowly carving a new space in my heart for them. Right next to yours.

Some people might say it's too soon. That I'm rushing to replace you. That I'm only setting myself up for failure, by creating more wounds in my soul, holes that will one day be emptied.

But I know the truth.

One day I will die.

I will travel back down into the ground, through layer after layer of dirt and caves.

I will meet the ferryman, and we will spend one thousand and twelve years together. Sometimes I might see you watching me from the shore, and it will be enough to know that you are waiting.

Waiting, I've always known, is one of your greatest virtues.

I will reach that shore one day, and give the three-headed guard every last one of my bones.

Then the gates will open.

You will be there, twitching your tail, to welcome me home.

I love you, Harley cat.