Mission Mystic: Operation Crystal Bone.
Just because Claire believes doesn’t mean Bella does.
When my human, Claire, announced we were going to a “psychic fayre,” my ears shot up. Fayre sounds suspiciously like fair, and fairs mean one thing: food. The glorious scent of burgers, the whispered promise of a dropped hotdog… this was going to be the best day ever.
I was mistaken.
This “fayre” was a hushed room full of humans sitting at small tables, clutching crystals , and speaking in solemn whispers about “energy.” Claire was enthralled. I was appalled.
Our first stop was a sign promising “Pet Psychic Readings.” Claire, beaming, nudged me forward. The woman peered into my soul.
“She has been a wolf in a past life,” she intoned.
A wolf? Please. Last Tuesday, I needed a running start to get on the sofa. My spirit animal is less lone wolf, more opportunistic napper.
“She carries ancient wisdom,” the psychic continued.
If by “ancient wisdom” you mean the deeply held belief that the vacuum cleaner is a demon from the underworld, then sure. Otherwise, the only thing I’m carrying is the memory of that sock I ate and regretfully returned to the hallway. That’s not wisdom; it’s evidence.
Claire, of course, was hanging on every word. “What does her future hold?”
The psychic closed her eyes. “I see a long path… companionship… a great feast awaits her.”
My tail thumped. Finally! We were getting somewhere!
“…in the afterlife,” she finished.
The afterlife? I’d prefer the feast in this life. Preferably within the next five minutes.
At another table, a woman laid out cards like she was dealing a very serious game of poker. “The cards say she feels misunderstood,” she told Claire.
Misunderstood? I bark at the mail slot because it dares to exist. That’s not a cry for help; it’s a statement of purpose.
By the end, Claire was radiant, clutching a crystal the size of a chew toy. “See, Bella?” she whispered. “The universe has so much to tell us.”
I sighed a dog sigh, the kind that holds the weight of a thousand uneaten sandwiches. Humans spend their lives searching for hidden truths and cosmic signs. They complicate the uncomplicated.
I already know the great mysteries of the universe: nap when you can, wag without reservation, love your human, and never, ever trust the Hoover.
And if the cosmos truly wants to get my attention, it knows my frequency. It’s called bacon.
Mission Mystic: concluded. Claire found enlightenment.
I’m still waiting for my feast.
#TheBellaUniverse
