"The Honey Jar" by Ron Hevener

The man and his wife of many years sat at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand, the morning paper spread open before them. "Any for sale?" she asked. Every morning, it was like this now.

"I don't know," he said, adjusting his glasses as she reached for a jar, scraped it clean and spread honey on buttered toast. No need to break off a piece and toss it to an eager friend now; honey wasn't on the shopping list any more. As he searched, the man remembered the bundle of fluff they had brought home that night so long ago. How she snuggled close to him, against the autumn chill, shivering ... how his wife's eyes had lit up. "For me?" she asked.
"For us," he said. "To keep us company." It was a gesture of love between two people who had quietly accepted their childless life. Anything to break the growing silence of their home would be welcome.
"Are there any for sale?" the woman asked again.
Taking a pen from his shirt pocket, he carefully circled a classified ad. "I think we're in luck," he smiled.
  
"We won't be able to replace her," he reminded his wife in the car that night, as they arrived at the small, well-kept farm.
"I know," she said sadly. "I wouldn't want to. Not really." But, her heart spoke louder than her words.
"You can't fool me," he said, resting his hand on hers. "Let's just see what the lady has, OK? We don't have to make up our minds right away."

They were greeted by a friendly woman in boots and an old coat. "Are you here to see the kittens?" 
"Yes," they said, following her into the warm barn.
"It's a little nippy tonight, so I moved their box in here," she said, inviting them into a roomy horse stall to see five kittens glowing under a heat lamp.
"Oh, look!" the woman sighed. At the sound of her voice, kittens began waking from their sleep. Who was that?
"Do you have their mother?" the man asked.
"She's around here somewhere," the lady said. "Since they've been weaned, I don't let her in with them any more, but she's never far away. I'll find her," she said, leaving them to guard her glowing treasures.
"What do you think?" the man asked his wife when they were alone. 
"I don't know," she said, suddenly. "Maybe it's too soon."

Safe among her littermates, a kitten twitched her eyelids and moved her legs in sleep. She was smaller than the others; different in a way and not quite as interested in normal kitten things. Something was missing in her life, but not in her dream; the same dream as always. Why are they crying? Why don't they see me?
Did all kittens dream the same thing?
That's when she heard the voices. At first, she wasn't sure if it was the dream taking a new turn, tricking her into believing what she hoped for had finally come to be.  "I don't know," she heard a woman saying.
What!  Lifting her head, seeing her littermates making their way to the side of the nesting box, the kitten gathered her legs and jumped toward the gentle hands caressing her brothers and sisters. Was this possible? 
WAIT! She jumped so fast, her heart seemed to burst - why didn't her feet move quicker! They used to climb trees behind the house! They used to carry her stalking in the tall grass!  Hurry, feet - hurry!
But, her feet were clumsy now, tripping on themselves as kittens sometimes do.
Wait for me! She pleaded, hoped. LOOK at me!
And then she felt it . . . strong hands. Familiar hands flowing with life force and compassion, surrounding her, lifting her!
  
The ride home that night wasn't quite as chilly as she remembered. Would they know what she sensed - what filled her with excitement - or would it forever be her secret? There would be plenty of time to discover that, she decided. Many years, if they were lucky. Then she felt it. The touch of the woman reaching for her and hugging her close.
"Hello, Honey," the soft voice whispered ... "We've missed you."
 

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Comments from readers:

Is that a true story?

Mr. H: About as true as you're going to get from a novelist! Actually, it's based on something in my files, going back to the 1930s. I've always loved the concept, so I thought I'd test it out on you.

You mean ... We're your guinea pigs?

Mr. H: Don't feel bad. I love guinea pigs! But, lots of people believe animals came back to them and they tell me about it. Great stories!

Have any of your own animals come back to you?

Mr. H: I hope they all come back! But, the best example I can think of happened a few years ago. I had a call from a couple in Ohio. They had raised three male cats together and taken them everywhere on their travels, like children. I won't say the cats were spoiled, but I do know they were greatly loved. At any rate, one of the cats died, they were distraught and they called a friend of mine. Well, she happened to have a litter planned, and she asked them to tell her about the cat they had lost. Just on a hunch, she said, why don't we see what happens with this litter?  Sure enough, a kitten was born that looked an awfully lot like their cat. When they got him home, the other two accepted him. He went straight to the toys ... and picked out his old favourite. And that story, my friends, really is - almost - true.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Be sure to check out Ron's figurines by clicking on the ad below. They would make lovely Christmas presents!

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