Another Look at the Rainbow Bridge

Based on a number of sentimental poems penned during the 1980s, the Rainbow Bridge has come to be recognized as an imaginary place located on the threshold of Heaven where our furry pets’ spirits go when they die. According to the story, the cherished creatures arrive, restored to health and able to frolic in a perpetually sunny meadow while they wait for their human owners to join them. Upon being reunited, the pet and the person who loved them cross over the Rainbow Bridge, entering Heaven together.

The Rainbow Bridge has lent modern culture such a sweet notion of pet Nirvana. Perhaps too sweet for cat owners among us who, like writer and producer Kirk J. Rudell, have trouble picturing canines and felines co-existing and behaving similarly in this spiritual limbo, awaiting their owners, before entering Heaven’s gate. Rudell states his case in a humorous essay in The New Yorker.

Felines Prefer Darker, Smellier Accommodations

First of all, cats don’t “frolic” the way the myth suggests, nor would they choose the refuge of a meadow or hilly playground, says Rudell. Nix the sunshine too. The way Rudell sees it, cats leave our mortal world and dart into an — up to now — unacknowledged dark closet of the legendary realm. There kindred feline spirits congregate and, of course, mark territory. The indoor sanctuary prohibits any hillside breeze from freshening the lingering ammonia-like scent — just like in our foyers.

Rudell also tells us that within the deepest recesses of the smelly closet there’s a shelf, on which sits “the comfiest, coziest cat bed. “This, of course, is rejected by the finickiest of felines. Instead, they opt to move on to the other side of the shelf and snuggle onto a stack of pricey sweaters; “Sweaters that cost a fortune to dry clean,” notes Rudell. Sweaters that become the preferred cat bed on the Other Side.”

A Less Enthusiastic Reunion

Rudell also expects that our cats will display little gusto reuniting with us while the canines run amok with delirious joy at the sight of their earthly caregivers. Canine yipping, licking, snuggling and begging to be petted, will be countered by as blasé a welcome from the felines as they gave us in our earthly homes. This doesn’t mean they don’t care. It’s just that the feline pecking order differs from that of canines.

In fact, I’m willing to bet if the dogs and the cats in our lives could read, the Rovers would barely be able to contain their enthusiasm for Rudell’s essay while the Tabbies slowly sashay by the computer screen with the aplomb of royal pageantry.

Rudell goes as far to suggest that our independent felines may never cross over the Rainbow Bridge. Why enter the Kingdom when they already have a stinky closet, a sweater and, of course, their earthly caretakers nearby? It’s no surprise their partners in life and death choose to forego the ultimate paradise with them – content to merely knock on Heaven’s door with their purring furballs beside them, as highly strung, and yet as deeply loved, as ever.