So, while I was driving by the mortuary coming to work, because of the guy who fouled up the Ike by driving onto the L tracks and getting crushed by the train, this story came on FoxNews (I listen to it for the articles) about a kid whose family believes is reincarnated from a WWII fighter pilot.
They’ve written a book about it, and are touring to promote the book, so you will buy it, and share in the eerie and impossibly detailed similarities between this young man’s fascination with planes and his dream-state recall of the circumstances of the fighter pilot’s life and death.
I’m not about to say this is all a load of crackpot hoo-ha designed to make your money vanish. Even though the facts that these people are from Louisiana, and willingly appear on daytime TV, and also that they never actually show the kid flying a fighter plane like you figure he would be flying, if this dead guy had taken up residence inside him, make me skeptical.
But I have to tell you about Chloe.
Chloe is a cat. We got Chloe after Becky died. Becky was old and very sick, but she did not want to die yet. We took her to the vet, and she knew what was coming. She crawled inside my jacket when the doctor came toward her with the needle. I wept like a baby.
We lasted two weeks before we decided we had to go to the Shelter. How will we know who to choose? asked the SUO. Easy, sez I. There will be a sign.
There was. Chloe looked exactly like Becky. I mean exactly. If we were spreading a bunch of photos in front of you there at your desk, or at the coffee place, or in bed, wherever you’re reading this, I swear you could not tell me who was who.
But there were other, shocking coincidences. Among them were these out-of-this-world behaviors:
1. Both Chloe and Becky never covered their poop in the litter box.
2. Both Chloe and Becky had to run around the kitchen table clockwise before going out the kitchen door. EVEN THOUGH the door was RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM.
3. Both Chloe and Becky craved peanut butter, Prego Classic Spaghetti Sauce, and powdered sugar donuts from Dimples. [Dimples is the donut shoppe.]
But, the most bizarre coincidence of all involved our parrot, Sunny. Sunny is very smart. He is, in fact, much smarter than me, and would out-perform the majority of you on most standardized tests. He is brilliant at mathematics, always selects yellow M&Ms, and enjoys baby back ribs. His favorite film is Dirty Harry.
The INSTANT we brought Chloe into her new home, Sunny shouted, “HI BECKY!!!” And he has continued to call her Becky ever since.
Sunny, incidentally, also does not cover his poop.
I am waiting for a call from Fox and Friends, but they are too busy mispronouncing “Sotomayor.”