Underground Operations

Jenessa Gayheart
Jul 29, 2016
2 min read

I threw the knotted sock for Bones to chase and bring back. It landed under the dining room table, and he pulled-up short instead of going under the table to get it. He looked around, seemingly stunned.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Go get the toy."

"I - I guess I will." He grabbed the sock and trotted back, uncharacteristically dropping it instead of having me fight to get it out of his mouth. "When the toy goes under the table, usually Cronsky is there and hisses and bats at me. She's not there."

"No, Bones, she's not." My mood dipped with sadness.

Cronsky had passed away quietly in our house on July 18th of, presumably, old age. We never knew how old she really was, and she started hiding under things in the back yard before I found her weak and breathing but covered with flies out in the open next to the house. I brought her inside that day to keep the flies off of her, and she died that evening with all of us there. We buried her in our back yard that night.

"Do YOU know where she's hiding?" he asked, then. "I haven't been able to find her for over a week. She's driving me crazy."

"Um... Bones..." He hadn't realized what happened to her.

"I usually walk around the house and see where she is, so I know when it's safe to go out the pet door or near the water bowl. But now there's no telling!"

"No - you don't understand, Bud. She's nowhere, you're safe."

"Yeah, she wants me to think that." He glanced around the room. "I just can't rest, waiting for her to suddenly swipe me from around a corner or as I'm stepping outside."

"You don't have to worry, Bones," I smiled at his unnecessary wariness, but swallowed as I told him, "She died last week. She's buried under ground by the wood fence in the back yard."

"Geez," Bones jumped up next to me and nestled into the couch. "If anyone can operate Underground, it's Cronsky. I'll stay away from the wood fence, then, when I have to go outside. Thanks."

Either he doesn't understand the concept of death (likely), or he has great faith in Cronsky's ability to be covert and devious (more likely). I might have to tell him the Federation of Feline Covert Operations recruited her and she's stationed in France, now. Then maybe he'll finally relax.

Goodbye, Cronsky, we miss you so much... except Bones.

He doesn't know you're gone.