“What did I do wrong?” Trig was frantic. The water poured in all around. All she could see was the rising water. And the faint screams that came from miles away.

“What are you talking about?” Jacks called out, as calm as a warm summer day. Nothing ever bothered him, and that infuriated Trig.

“Why would she do this to me? What did I do wrong?” Trig was on the verge of a full blown panic attack. She hated water. Hell, all cats hated water but this water looked cold. Frigid. And it was climbing. Higher, inching closer to her little cage.

“Mom? She didn’t do this,” Jacks said, still calm, still composed. That little mutt, what was he? Part terrier, part Yorkie? That didn’t really matter anymore. Jacks was the best friend Trig ever had. Besides Mom, that was. Trig teased Jacks at every turn he never let her down. He was always there for her, when she needed warmth, when she wanted to try his food, or when she was lonely. Jacks had always been there.

Tears filled her eyes as she hopped around in her plastic tomb. The stupid cat carrier. Her bladder had let go some time ago, shortly after the thump and roll and the ridiculous noise all finally stopped. Just after she heard water splash around outside.

“No, I did something wrong, I know it. She wouldn’t have put me here otherwise.”

Jacks calmly put his little nose through the narrow bars of his own little prison, his own tomb. Poor guy didn’t know what was about to happen yet. Still thinking Mom would come and save him, she supposed.
“This wasn’t a punishment. This was a treat.”

Trig shot a glance at Jacks that might have killed him if they were home, safe and warm. “A treat? Look at the water. That’s not a treat!”

“Something must have gone wrong. We were going to Florida. Vacation.” Jacks said that last word with a mound of pleasure. Vacation. What the heck was a vacation? The only time Trig ever went on a trip she ended up being stuck with needles in an office full of foul smells and whining mutts.

“A what?” Trig was slipping toward frantic; the water was taking over the crates below her. She heard the shrieking and yelping. Then the splashing of other animals clawing desperately for life. Then silence, and the soft rise of water forcing its way ever higher. Toward them. Toward her.

“Vacation.” Still that happy-go-lucky lap dog. “She didn’t want either of us to be left behind this time. We’re on a plane.”
“And this is what happens?” The answer for Trig still hadn’t come. What did she do wrong? Why was Mom so mad at her that she had to do this?

“No. Something went wrong.”

Trig scrambled for any escape. But there wasn’t one. Never had been. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Not to her. She wanted Mom. She wanted to know what she did wrong. The water was so close now. She could feel its icy hand rising up. All she wanted was home.

* * * * *

The sun sneaked in under the covers. Mom left them down a bit when she crawled out but that was okay, Trig needed to get up. She’d been lounging around all week with nothing much to do. The snow was piled high outside. Too cold. It wasn’t important, anyway. The mice were roaming the walls, and the basement. Trig knew if she wanted to, she could catch one in a heartbeat.

But she didn’t. Not anymore. She was so proud on that one afternoon dragging that little gray fuzz-ball into the house, its limp tail flapping against the steps of the deck as she rose to prosperity. Mom didn’t appreciate it at all. She screamed and ran and of course, Trig didn’t know what she was saying but she knew the tone. It was the same tone she used the last time Trig saw Pop, or whoever he was. It had been a long time since Pop had come around and now Trig could barely recall what he looked like or more importantly, what he smelled like.

The slight impression he left on the couch from all those hours throughout the day and deep into the nights still remained. Mom wouldn’t sit there. Trig had no problem with that. In fact, the first time she clawed the cushions there, Mom didn’t say a word. Now Trig had made a nice little nest all to herself. And it was perfect; the sun seemed to know where to find her every day right there in the afternoon.

This morning, though, Mom was running around, mumbling to herself. Jacks, the annoying little mutt that slobbered all over himself whenever Mom walked in the door, was a bit out of sorts. His eyes were weepy. Sad.

‘What’s going on?’ Trig asked him. Trig always tiptoed around Jacks. Some days he just got it in his head to chase her around. Trig wanted nothing to do with his games but wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of catching her.
Jacks panted and look blankly at her. Trig stepped closer. Cautious.

‘What’s going on?’ Trig tried again.

‘Don’t know,’ Jacks said.

He didn’t know much, that was for sure. Trig marched off. Stupid dog, she thought, doesn’t matter anyway.
Trig spent some time tending to business. Mom had to get down in the basement and take care of her litter box before long. She was only going to put up with it for so long before she decided the laundry that piled up on the floor was fair game. She roamed the basement for a while not sure what she was looking for and then Mom called from above.
“Trig,” she said and that sent the lanky cat into a fit of purring. She couldn’t help it any more than she could avoid it when Mom stroked her fur while lounging on the couch.

Trig darted upstairs and almost leapt into Mom’s arms.

“Hey, girl,” Mom said over the ruckus of the purring. “You’re happy this morning.”

She was and why not? She was warm and Mom was home. She rubbed her face against Mom’s cheek and that’s when she stopped purring.

Jacks was in a crate. Prison. They didn’t go to prison often, but when they did it always led to that awful place, that place with crying animals, screaming animals, and those pointed things they stuck in you and made you want to scream the same.

Trig wasn’t having any of that today. No way, thank you very much. She squirmed and lunged but Mom was ready for her. She could use her claws but that was a last resort. She wouldn’t hurt Mom.

‘Jacks,’ Trig said, ‘What did you do? Just roll over for this?’

Jacks only panted with that stupid grin. White dogs with little brown patches should be banned from smiling. That’s what Trig thought.

* * * * *

The water pressed into her crate now. Her paws caught the ice of its hand and she flew into panic. All she could hear was the sound of her own heart, pounding desperately for its own escape. Jacks looked at her through the bars of his prison, eyes of knowing where ignorance and bliss usually resided. His paw dangled through the slat.

“Take my paw Trig,” he said.

Trig pressed deep into the corner of her crate, frantic.

“Reach out Trig. Take my paw.”

Her breath was fast and furious. “Where’s Mom?”

“Safe. I hope,” Jacks answered.

“Why won’t she save me?” Then Trig amended it. “Us.”

“Take my paw Trig.”

Finally, as the water rose and she reared up high on her haunches, she stuck her thin, flexible limb through the bars of her crate and found Jacks’ paw. Her claws dug in. Deep. She felt Jacks flinch but he didn’t yank it back.

“Sorry,” Trig said.

“It’s fine.”

“Didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Jacks said.

The soothing voice of her dear friend drew her attention finally away from the rising water. It was dark down here, only a few thin knives of light cut through the fuselage but it was enough to see Jacks.

“Don’t let go,” Jacks said.

“I don’t want it to end. Not now. Not yet.” Her legs were going numb. Was she still standing on them? She couldn’t tell. “You’re my best friend Jacks. I don’t want to lose you.”

His calm eyes held hers. Full of life and love. Perhaps that’s what she loved most about him. In nature, they were supposed to be enemies, and she certainly played her part well, but it was only a part. She loved him.

“We’ll always be together. Always have been.”

“Wha- … what do you mean?” Trig’s legs began to quiver. The cold was reaching into her veins.

“Don’t let go.”

She wouldn’t even if she could. The water spilled over her little window. She saw it float over Jacks’s head. His eyes were fading. She saw it, yet he was so calm.

“I love you Jacks. I’m so scared.”

His voice was soft, weak. “I love you, too. Love never ends, Trig. Only the scenery changes.”