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This story is canon, but stands alone.

This episode is clean, no Yiff. Rated: G

Bridging the Gap:

Ripple

There is a road,

No simple highway,

between the dawn and dark of night.

If you should go, no one may follow,

That path is for your steps alone.

Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia

"What is it with you, today, James? Did you pour vinegar on your cereal this morning, you're as sour as a crab apple," queried bobbie.

"Oh, 'ts just that day, again."

"What day is that," bobbie asked, quietly?

"Th' Day me Mum passed," James replied sullenly.

"Oh," bobbie brightened, "Who'd you do the Honoring with this morning."

"Didn't do anything this morning. Slept in, didn't feel up ta anythin', ah jus' got up a bit ago."

"It's Honoring day for your Mother," bobbie began softly but by the end of the question he was shouting, "And you haven't done anything. And you slept in? She's dead, and you didn't what?...."

James looked away and just shrugged his great shoulders, hoping to avoid answering.

bobbie jumped up and swung his face up into James' until they were nose to nose. The great lion jerked back and lowered his head, staring at the dog's head butting into his personal space. Now, he felt more wretched than before, and he looked it too; his emerald eyes bloodshot red, his beautiful shaggy mane a tangled mess of gold curls hanging loosely --knotted and limp.

The diminutive Dalmatian had his muzzle right in under James' nose. He pulled away and yanked his paw back as if he might slug the towering lion across his muzzle. bobbie's eyes flashed brightly with his anger. "That's evil!" he shouted. "That's shameful evil. Such disrespect! How dare you? How could you? Your own mother! What were you thinking!" bobbie was practically shrieking, now shaking in restrained rage. "James!"

James cowered, leaning away from the little Dalmatian, clearly both annoyed and dismayed at the reaction he was provoking, these just adding to his misery.

"How could you do that, that is so inconsiderate? Your own mother!" bobbie was still going on, although it looked less like James was going to get hit at every moment, that didn't make things any better. James had felt bad all day, today it was the anniversary that ten years ago his mother had died. He had felt so sad since he got out of bed, and now this! Being vilified by this, ... dog!

In the weeks that he had known James, bobbie had never displayed any anger. To James knowledge the little dog didn't get angry, couldn't get angry, much less this angry; bobbie was shaking almost vibrating with the emotions charging through him. James had seen him: worried and sullen; worried and frustrated; and worried and scared, ...but never just angry. James hadn't known it was possible. He had no idea how to defend himself against such an attack; especially from this scrawny, runty, submissive, weak little toy he had acquired. bobbie didn't weigh half of what James did, a furr looking more as if made of pipe cleaners than made of dog. How could such an insignificance fly at him in such a rage? James raised his voice against the onslaught.

"I don't know what yer going on about, I don't know what ceremony yer talking about .... I don't know what ceremony I'm missing here."

"The Honoring, The Jahrzeiten Ceremony, the Years' Anniversary Ceremony." Here, bobbie slumped in defeat, loosing the anger that had energized and fueled his tirade. "I can't believe this, you're a freaking Philosophy Major! And you don't celebrate ...this, You forgot!" he continued, weakly.

"No, bobbie, I didn't forget anything," James said putting more acid in his voice than necessary, "I have no idea what ceremony yer on about." And with his voice rising he growled, "And what do you care, and what do you know about it anyway, it's not like your mother who's died and left you all alone. You don't know what it's like, to loooo ooo ...." James stopped.

bobbie lowered his head without lowering his muzzle and narrowed his eyes to slits. He leaned in to James' face until they were nose tip to nose tip. James' eyes went wide, and he leaned back away from bobbie, afraid suddenly of the look on bobbie's face. bobbie leaned in closer and spat, "No, I don't know what it's like to lose a mother, and I hope I never have to, but I do know what it's like to lose a parent. When my father died, I didn't have a brother or sister or aunts or uncles or grandparents to help. It was just me and my mom, so don't you accuse me of not knowing what I know all too well! We had to live in rental places full of rats and roaches and mice. Making pizza with flour and a third of a can of tomato soup because it's all there is to eat. You! With your trust funds, and mansions, and private tutors." He just glared at James for a minute, daring him to say anything.

James looked down, his face more wretched than before. He realized that his snap of anger couldn't have been worse timed, more ill advised, more pig-headed, and he couldn't have picked a worse target to loose that anger at. He wouldn't raise his eyes to meet bobbie's, he was so abashed. Now, James slid out of his chair, and kneeling in front of bobbie, said, "Oh, Pup, I am so sorry. Please? That was so wrong of me, I'm ashamed of myself, please, ..., please forgive me. You, of all people I know, are the least deserving of such cruel words. Will you forgive me? I let the anger best me, it was very wrong to do, most of all to you. I am so sorry."

"It's alright, James. You are not yourself today. It'll be alright. It's a day for you to honor your mother, not for us to bicker with each other. What will you honor her with?"

Still a little annoyed at the implications behind bobbie's question, he rallied to counter as best he could, "Alright! we'll celebrate this. You lead. Do you know any ceremony well enough to perform it, to lead?"

"Yeah, I do, I've been taught to." responded bobbie, beginning to brighten, "We celebrate it every year, the day of my father's passing. We've always had a Bridge ceremony."

"Alright then," James began, trying to mollify bobbie, "We'll have a 'Bridge Ceremony,' you lead!" James was still a little testy right now, to have bobbie treat him with such little respect, it peaked his pride more than just a little, and to have bobbie suggest he disrespected his mother, it was just more than he wanted to hear from him. And what really rubbed salt in the wounds was that bobbie was right about never having heard of the Bridge Ceremony before.

bobbie brightened even more till he was almost smiling, "O.K. we need some meat that's never been frozen. And some rice, do you have any rice?" As he spoke, he gained in spirit and animation, and soon he appeared fairly normal. James felt a little better, too. He was learning a lot today, and not just about himself. He learned that bobbie could fly into outrage, something he didn't think possible. He thought bobbie was just one of the cheerful ditzes with whom everything was always just "Fine". It was a good feeling in the lion's heart to know little bobbie could feel so strongly about something, to be so fierce, if it was required.

bobbie quickly set about gathering the required tools and stuffs for the ceremony; from bobbie's house they got the Honoring Box; inside the box paper and ink, a quill, bowls, spoons, incense, a candle, a fire-strike, all the implements a good ceremony needed!

They went to the store and bought white rice to cook, very fresh meat of the best cut; very little meat, some of it wouldn't be eaten "being symbolic" and some herbs and fresh-cut flowers. Then returning to James' house, James rushing the staff out of the kitchen, bobbie quickly set about organizing all the objects. Trimming the flowers, breaking the thorns off the stems of the electric pink sternbloem flowers, cleaning off wilted or chewed up leaves, wilted petals, boiling the rice, crushing the herbs together; Rheas Tox and Acconyte, Ignatzia herb, Hyoscyamus, lilly of the valley, and lavender ... bobbie continued with slicing the meat....

Soon all was ready. bobbie set the freshly cooked food into three bowls. James asked, "What's the meaning of the rice? "Oh," bobbie answered, "I hadn't thought it through at the time, it's the center of every dog's main meal. Most dogs are allergic to wheat, so the meal is build around rice. It represents the hub, the center post of the tent of the family. The whiteness of the rice represents purity. The meat and the vegetables round out the meal for the living, but the rice is the center; everyone eats it and so we honor the dead by helping them feel welcomed and at home, it's ordinary." "The meat is a sacrifice, you have to have some, not much but you must have some for the ceremony. It's so expensive usually, and so honors the dead showing them that we take the ceremony seriously and are not bothering them insincerely. I didn't think that this was so dog oriented, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the bias. I could have made it more cat oriented, if I had seen that." bobbie hung his head, embarrassed. "Sorry! The ceremony is for the living, but it's to honor those who aren't living, we have a meal and some conversation. And since the other isn't living, the conversation is rather one sided, but allows us to share our hopes and dreams. And so we show our respect by having small hardships, to show the dead we still care and honor them. It's also to show ourselves that we're in earnest, ...that we mean it. Let's clean up."

James had quickly and energetically done every task bobbie set him to; dusting the library, taking the furniture out of the room, and dragging a bigger table into it, dressing in better clothes. bobbie coached James on the requisite protocol for this; no asking questions during the ceremony unless for clarification, no talking during the ceremony except to answer or ask questions. No jokes. No leaving the room for any reason what so ever. bobbie carefully explained what would take place; "This is the short ceremony, for the children to honor a parent. There is very long ceremony for the exactly one year ceremony, but that one usually has tonnes of people, takes two hours at the shortest, even rushing through it. There is even a different ceremony for parents needing to honor a dead child."

"Anyway, the one box represents the one; there is only ever one box at the ceremony, almost everything for the ceremony comes from the box. Once the box is made, it's filled and once blessed and sealed nothing can go into the box except what came out of it for the ceremony. We put a lighted candle on the box so that if there are lots of people there, no one can put anything into the box belonging to the furson who's passed over. I honor the room, clean it spiritually, then invite our guest, we offer our thanks, offer some food, send out our concerns, then I close the room breaking contact, and close the ceremony.

The candle and the incense, are the two; the candle is green and represents the life that comes down to us from the Green Man. The candle flame so bright represents the spirits of the living. The dimmer glowing coal and smoke from the incense representing the spirits of those who've crossed over. The incense is for the smell you know, the sense of smell is the first sense that a newborn kit, cub, or pup can use, and does use to find its mother, or, ... and here he paused and tilted his muzzle down, taking a deep breath, he continued, "Or father. It's a perfect triad; the smells. The incense, the food, the flowers? It's meant to be reassuring to the spirits, and even if they are having trouble being there, it should be calming, ...

The Three; is for the gifts we offer the dead to honor them; the flowers, the food, and the letters we write. It goes on to seven, but that's all philosophy, and during the ceremony we can't talk about or analyse it, it's not respectful; so I won't answer any questions unless it's something really important.

bobbie asked James to pull the curtains to, so the room would be dark enough that the candle would show. He was just about to start the ceremony when the realization hit bobbie just what this rite was going to do to James. James was about to get hammered, emotionally blind-sided by this, but there was no way to prepare him emotionally for something the mind cannot comprehend. His throat tightened and he couldn't speak, for a moment, he didn't want to hurt his love, and couldn't see a way around it. He found himself having to take a couple of deep breaths to relax enough to speak. There wasn't anything for it, just to go through with it, he just hated to see someone- so wonderful- so wretched-, but he knew that afterward James would feel much better, and thank him for it. He breathed deeply, again, his slight panicky feeling passing. He calmed, pushing his panic to the side by thinking about the list of things they had done in preperation, ticking off the list in his mind, ... he realized he was humming the ceremony song; bobbie began to feel joy welling inside his heart from anticipating the end of the ceremony. He smiled a small tight smile, the catharsis would be good for James he'd concluded.

His mind settled and firm, he decided to just go through with it.

"James? Are you ready?"

James nodded twice firmly. This nod was not an "I know what I'm doing, and I'm ready," sort of nod, it was a "I don't know what I'm doing, but I trust you completely, I'm ready," nod. The tension and seriousness in the room broke, as bobbie's heart swelled with the joy of doing something hard, but, oh, so necessary, for his friend. It would be a difficult gift to give, .... This was going to be so rough....

James stood beside him, all innocent and curious, "O.K. What's next?"

"O.K., no talking?" James nodded again.

bobbie began: He raised his paws up to shoulder height, -- paws spread wide, and brought them together, then spread them out slowly again. He bowed to the box on the table and approached it quickly. He opened the box, and took out a green candle and a fire-strike for the candle and closed the box. He turned and strode out of the room, lit the candle and carefully, slowly, marched ceremoniously back in. He set the fat green candle on the table and reopened the box, and took out all the contents of the box; a blue bottle full of ink, round sheets of paper with gold centers, four bowls, a polished metal tray, a very small bowl and clear bottle filled with a clear liquid, large sleeve of incense, a knife, and other small objects. Then closing the box, he tipped the candle sideways spilling a small pool of wax on the box top, then cemented the candle to the box with the hot wax. He selected three sticks of incense and slid them out of the wrapper. He placed all three in his paw, and holding them upside down over the candle flame's tip, he rolled them slowly back and forth till they caught fire. He took each stick in turn and put it into his mouth just long enough to extinguish the flame, leaving the glowing coal at the end. The smoke twisted and curled upwards, like writhing dragons. Soon the room was perfumed with airy wisps of the sweet smoke. Then he put all three sticks in his right paw and bowed to James, then to the door behind him. He bowed to the four compass points and then to the quarters points. He placed the unlit ends of the three sticks in a tiny brass ring and spread them out so that they formed a little tripod.

He moved his paws up over his head and then lowered them slowly and spread out his paws horizontal to the table and brought them down, low, and began to speak clearly and with a fine tenor voice; "This is the Honoring Ceremony. We ask that the spirits of our ancestors find peace here, and watch and note our respect as we honor them. Here we open!"

"She is dead," he continued. "And today we celebrate that she is dead and gone from us by recalling many blessings we have received and continue to receive from her watching over us from the bridge. We celebrate, ... uhn, we celebrate... , ... James! I don't remember your mother's name!" He was visibly shaken by this.

"Oh, I don't think I ever told you, it's Alice."

"(Thanks)" he whispered, "We celebrate the life of Alice Leuwenhirt, the mother of Kohenich known as Albert, Rayina known as Orange, and Beam known as James. We ask her to come and be, here, in attendance and present, to be our guest, as we remember her, celebrate her, and bring her our gifts of food, our flowers, and our thoughts and prayers to honor her; and ask that as we honor her, she will watch over us and aid us in our endeavors in this world. bobbie began spreading out the paper and a quill, two bowls, a bottle of ink, a knife, and other sundries.

bobbie opened a small thin bottle and carefully poured a single drop of a thick yellow liquid onto two of the three bowls. He opened the bottle of ink and poured some into a small glass inkwell, and opened another bottle that was short and fat, pouring a little clear liquid into a blue and white miniature porcelain bowl with a gilt rim. Little bigger than a thimble the blue-flowered was filled half full of the clear liquid. James assumed that since it had no smell, it must be water. But it was lumpy pouring out and didn't flow so much as ooozed out, in chunks and threads. Like pouring jelly or jam, it suddenly filled the bowl and bobbie re-stoppered the bottle. James was lost in wondering what liquid it might be? bobbie, holding his paw horizontally over the bowl, closed his eyes and muttered something and with a soft pop the liquid ignited, a translucent, faint, pale blue flame dancing and hovering about the bowl's gold rim.

James watched bobbie go through the opening, the invocation, and the invitation parts of the ceremony. He was fair impressed that the runt was doing so well! James figured that with the strength and smoothness of bobbie's presentation, he must have the rite tattooed by rote inside his head or maybe on his heart. He watched the dog go through the motions smoothly, calmly, admiring how the pup, normally so jumpy and insecure was here, confidently and competently, leading this formal sacred ritual.

bobbie handed James a bowl of the cooked rice with thin slivers of fresh red meat laid across in horizontal bars, the bright green of the herbs and vegetables peeking out from underneath. James began to nibble at it, as bobbie continued, "We honor Alice with our gifts of food, and hope she finds joy and sustenance as she continues her journey, we ask that she watch over us and intercede for us against any forces that would work us ruin."

The silence was comfortable now, James enjoying the flavors of the dog's style of cooking, so different than his cooks' style.

James' thoughts flitted about chaotically, thinking about the food, now thinking about the box and all the bottles and compartments in it. Thinking about his friend and how different he was, how comfortable and in command of this rite he seemed. bobbie didn't seem worried about anything, seemingly focused completely on the actions he was going through. They finished up their food, and left the third bowl on the table, to honor her.

"Here we remember, what she is to us;" bobbie continued, "I will start." "She is the mother of James, she gave him life and raised him as best she could, until she was required by the Green Man to Cross the Bridge, as each of us in our turn will be required to Cross at His time, and not the time of our choosing. I honor her for her choice to give birth to James, for the love she showered upon him, that he would know how to love so abundantly. I honor her that she has taught his heart generosity and patience. I honor her for the honesty she instilled in James. She must have been a remarkable woman to have raised such a wonderful young man as James. I honor her, for these gifts and her blessings to James, I thank her, I pray for her, and I wish her peace continuing on her journey, ... James?"

James was more than a little stunned at the kind words bobbie had to say about a furr that he hadn't ever met. He was floating on the sound and rhythm of bobbie's words, and feeling the loss of his mother as he weighed all the ideas and thoughts bobbie was voicing so well. The flow of words and the flood of images and memories that assaulted his mind, filled his heart with the feelings that he had for her, had stuffed his heart with fondness and longing and thoughts long repressed.

He began his part, "I wish to say, ... I, uhn, ...." He tried to speak, he faltered, his voice cracking, hoarse with emotion. He pressed his lips tightly together, choking back a sob.

bobbie whispered "Breath."

He struggled, but finally getting a deep breath he found his voice, and began again, "She is my mother, who gave me, ..." and here James wrestled with a ragged breath again, trying to get a deep inhale to ease the cramp in his throat. Partially succeeding he continued, "... Gave me a moral compass, so that I might do honorably in my affairs, and gave me insight and strength that I might give ease where I can, ... she, ... "

Like a top that has finally wound down, tottered, then fallen; James tried to struggle, lost, and caved in. His shoulders slumped, he hung his head, great wracking sobs shook him as he tried to stifle the pain, he began keening, and it grew in volume until bobbie knew he had to interfere.

"James. James! Let it out." bobbie knew what to do, he stepped around the table till he was beside James and lightly wrapped a paw across James' shoulder.

At the gentle touch, James fell apart wailing and keening, shaking. "Mum!"

"That's it, open your throat, let it all out," bobbie prompted. James complied. He wailed louder, and trying to open his throat, began to fight the pain and cramping in his neck. He leaned his head back and began to roar. The squeal that started, became a wail, which became a shout, which devolved into a roar that shook the windows. As his breath wore out, the roar faded and James collapsed onto bobbie shuddering and sobbing. After a minute or two he stopped crying and just stood there weeping quietly, large tears rolling down his muzzle into James' fur dripping quietly into bobbie's shirt.

James had cried himself out, and pulling himself together, wiped his eyes with a pawkerchief. "I'm all right, 'm good," was all he said. bobbie handed James a sheet of the honoring paper, it was round; about an open paws-width across for James. It was white at one edge and darkened to deep grey across its width. Each sheet was covered about three quarters with disk of gold paint, gold foil or brass paint, well-- it looked like gold, covering one side but not the other.

"Here," said bobbie handing James a sheet and the quill, and the bottle of ink. "Write down what you want to say; for thanks to her, to tell her what you are experiencing now, what you want to tell her of your hopes and your plans, ... Everything for your future that you would like her blessings on."

"Uh, Which side do I write on," he queried?

"Oh! yeah, the ink won't go on the gold, so flip it over," bobbie instructed.

James began to write furiously, filling one page and asking for a second. When he'd filled it, he stopped and bobbie took the quill from him. bobbie wrote out a sheet of his own, and setting the quill in its stand, said, "Anything else to say?" James thought for a moment, "Yea, I'll have another sheet, then. Please?" James' face was placid now, no strain betrayed in his whiskers, no wrinkles in the muzzle. He wrote quickly in a tight small script, the quill gliding silently over the page. When he had finished he paused, a small smile playing hide and seek at the corners of his mouth. "Now what?"

Now, I show you how to fold them. bobbie took his round page in his paw and deftly folded it in halves, quarters, then eighths. Opening it he folded the creases back and forth forming a zig-zag pyramid that stood on its edge. He placed his on the metal tray.

James saw the concept and quickly followed suit. Soon all four pyramids were in place on the metal tray. bobbie stood at the table center again, "Here we raise our gratitude, our hopes, our wishes, and our prayers."

He took the three short sticks of incense, and placing two in his left paw and a single one in his right, he brought the stick to the candle flame. It lit with a small orange flame and he touched it to the first paper, and paused and lit the second, then to each in turn till by the time the first was out, the last was burning half way down.

He calmly recited the prayer, "You have died, you have abandoned your body and left your family, leaving them behind as you continue your journey, going before us to a new place beyond our understanding. Here are our hopes: we trust in your compassion to hear us, here are our fears; we trust in your strength to uplift us, here are our problems; we ask for your guidance to steer us. We with our troubled hearts ask for your blessing upon us, as a boon for us, whom you have left so far behind." Soon, there were four rings of pale ash on the small bronze tray. James was leaking slow tears, not bothering to wipe them away, letting them roll down his muzzle unchecked. bobbie extinguished the flame of the stick, and bringing the three sticks together, he knelt on one knee. He separated out one of the sticks and standing, crushed out the smoking glow in the large empty bowl, then held it aloft. "Absent from us, we have not forgotten her. She has gone before us and left us here, but we are not alone. May she aide us as she watches over us, as the Green Man watches over us all." He set the stick down, and raised the remaining two sticks over his head then separated them. Taking one stick in each hand, He bowed to James, and turning, bowed to the empty doorway behind him. He bowed to the compass primes, and then the compass quarters. He brought his paws together and crushed out the last two sticks, in the bowl.

Holding his paws out wide at shoulder height, he brought them quickly together, then spread them again.

"This is the Honoring Ceremony held for Alice Leuwenhirt. We ask that she and the spirits of our ancestors find peace here, and watch, noting our care and our respect for them as we have honored them." He spread his arms wide kneeling, then stood bringing his paws together again, then he raised his right paw and extending a claw from his first digit, he brought it down quickly and pushing the candle wick into the pool of wax from which it arose, snuffed the flame. The light, representing the living, went out. "Here we close!"

bobbie crossed slowly toward the windows and pulled on the chain to the drapes opening the curtains, slowly, as if giving their eyes time to adjust but really just to give James time to settle down from the emotional turmoil. He didn't speak, allowing James to feel whatever he was feeling at the time, and be with that emotion. He broke the candle from the box top and began cleaning and putting the items back in the box. When everything was cleaned and stored away, he closed the lid and pegged the latch. Finally he looked at James.

James smiled a sad, lopsided smile. His brows were relaxed, no tension showed in his face, his tail swung gently side to side, and curled up once before hanging down, relaxed. "Wow! That was intense," James said to nobody in particular.

bobbie didn't respond, except to nod sharply, once.

James tried again, harder this time. "bobbie, I want, ..." he began, "So! ... uhmmm, ... Thanks. Ehh, ... Thank you, that was, ... amazing. That was, ehhh, ...I had, ... I, ..." H shrugged and he just let it drop. He pursed his lips together clenching his jaw, he inhaled hard and deep. Stepping around the end of the table, took bobbie's paw in his and squeezed. His face was tense, but his eyes were large, soft, and gentle, glinting and flashing green in the moistness left by the recent wash of emotions. "I, ...I have never had a friend like you, ... ...Ever."

bobbie looked up into James' dark emerald eyes. He noticed how calm and peaceful James seemed, and he smiled brightly. James dropped his eyes and began looking intently at the patterns in the carpet, feeling too much - too strongly, but especially feeling too vulnerable to smile back right now.

"Nor I."

"Right, then!" began James. "I often ponder, 'ow does Cook know what I fancy fer me suppah, ....?" James drawled, laying his accent on extra thick. Putting his massive arm across bobbie's shoulder he impelled him forward, toward door to the dining room.