Chapter 1.
It was a stormy night. The leaves on the trees were making a shushing sound outside. Raindrops hit the windows and scattered down the glass. Lightning lit up the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Thankfully, there was a fire cracking in the fireplace and all of us, even Princess Messy, were tucked in to various pillows and blankets in Palmetto Mansion's cozy living room.
“Tell us a story, Herbie,” said Tux. “One of those fables.”
As a therapy cat, Herbie often participated in “Read to Me” events where children read books to him at the library. A pretty easy gig if you ask me. He just has to sit there and be petted. But he also got to know lots of stories that he could then tell to us.
“All right,” said Herbie, stretching and then settling back in on the pillow. “I’ll tell you one called the Ant and the Grasshopper.”
“I was hoping it would be about cats,” said Tux.

Chapter 2.
“One chilly day in late autumn, a family of ants was busy carrying grain into their home underground,” Herbie began. “They had worked all summer to collect the grain, and now they had enough to last them through the winter.”
“What is grain?” asked Tux.
“Something from a plant. Ants eat it.”
“It doesn’t sound very good,” said Tux.
“A grasshopper with a fiddle came upon the ants,” continued Herbie.
“With a what?” asked Tux.
“A fiddle. You know, a violin.”
“Grasshoppers play the violin?” asked Tux.
“They do in this story. Now just listen,” said Herbie with a stern look. “Having no food, the grasshopper was starving. He humbly asked for a bite to eat.”
“Good thing the ants have all that grain,” said Tux.
“May I continue?” said Herbie, raising his eyebrows.
“Sorry,” said Tux.

Chapter 3.
“The ants were surprised. 'Haven’t you stored away anything for the winter? What did you do all summer?'
“The grasshopper replied, 'I was busy playing my fiddle. I didn’t store away any food and now I have nothing to eat.'
“The ants shrugged their shoulders. “Making music, were you? they cried. “Very well, now dance!” And they turned around and went on with their work.”
Everyone was quiet.
“The End,” added Herbie.
“Well,” I said, breaking the silence. “That was a bit dark.”

Chapter 4.
Tux was quiet for a moment too, but then he brightened.
“Oh, I get it!” he said. “They were going to share their grain with the grasshopper while he entertained them with his fiddle.”
I was about to tell Tux that perhaps that was NOT what the ants intended when Messy spoke up. “Like how Herbie is telling us a story,” she said. “We need stories and music and art in our lives, especially when it’s cold and dark outside.”
I had to admit she had a point.
​“I like that version better,” I said.
“Tell us another,” said Tux.

Chapter 1.
We walked down the broad wooden steps of Palmetto Mansion and made our way across the wet lawn. The moon was big and full and gave everything in the night a soft white glow. A soft mist wrapped around the trees and rose up the trunks.
“Why are we going to the graveyard at night?” Asked Tux. “It’s so creepy.”
“Because it’s Halloween,” I said.
“What is Halloween?” Tux asked.
“Halloween celebrates the end of the harvest and the arrival of Winter on the first of November,” said Herbie.
“Oh,” said Tux.
“And many believe that tonight is the one night of the year when we can talk to the spirits,” he added.
“I don’t think I want to talk to the spirits,” said Tux quietly.
“Don’t believe everything that Herbie says,” I said.

Chapter 2.
We made our way to the center of the graveyard. There were cats of all colors and shapes assembled on the grounds.
Up on the very tallest grave stone sat Messy, her green eyes shining and her fluffy tail swishing back and forth. Her fur was thick and full and made her seem twice as big as a normal cat.
She was magnificent.
“I know Princess Messy,” I said casually to the brown tabby seated in front of me. “We’re pretty good friends,” I added.
“Really,” the cat replied, raising his eyebrows, looking me up and down with suspicion. She looked back up at the monument.
Messy had cleared her throat and began to speak. Her normally low, scratchy voice was loud and echoed throughout the cemetery.
“Tonight,” she boomed, “we honor our friends and family who crossed the Rainbow Bridge over the last year.”
“What is the Rainbow Bridge?” whispered Tux.
“It’s the bridge you cross when your nine lives on Earth is up,” I whispered back.
“Oh,” said Tux softly.
Messy continued. “Please call out the names of loved ones who are now waiting for us on the other side.”
It was quiet for a few moments, and then the cats gathered in the graveyard began to call out names.
“Mystery,” said one.
“Mister Pickles,” said another.
All along the circle of cats names were called out. Messy nodded at each one.
“Pela.”
“Grand Purr.”
“Little Jenny.”
Tux whispered again. “Where does the bridge go?”
“Well, they say when you cross over, you are greeted by all those you have loved in your life who crossed over before you. They wait for you on the other side.”
“Oh,” said Tux again.

​Chapter 3.
They listened quietly until the last name was said.
Messy looked out over the cats gathered before her.
“We are here to remember those who now wait for us. We thank them for all they did on this Earth, whether it was being a good friend to us or a loyal companion to their human. And for those whose life on Earth was hard, they are now surrounded by the love of all of those who wait for them.”
There were a few sniffles in the crowd.
“Until we meet again,” Messy said.
“Until we meet again,” the cats called out in chorus.

Chapter 4.
Tux moved in a little closer.
“Uncle Dobie?” he said quietly.
“Yes, Tux?”
“If you cross the Rainbow Bridge before me, will you wait for me there?”
I felt a sudden sting in my eyes. I blinked hard but now my eyes were wet.
“Of course I will, Tux.”
“Thanks,” said Tux. He looked relieved. He then leaped off the stone wall to join the other cats.
I watched his black and white fur disappear into the mists. But despite the chill in the air, I was warmed by a glow in my heart.

Chapter 1 .
    It was a beautiful Fall day at Palmetto Mansion. Yellow leaves were drifting down onto the green grass of the yard. A gentle breeze ruffled my fur. I was just getting comfortable in a patch of sun when Tux blurted out, “We need to go to a pumpkin patch.”
    I blinked.
    “A pumpkin patch?” I asked.
    “I heard the lady talking about it,” said Tux. “He said it isn’t really Fall unless you go to one.”
    Herbie lifted his head from his paws. “The season of Fall isn’t dependent upon our personal actions,” he said.  “It’s dependent on the movement of our planet around the Sun.”
    “He meant metaphorically,” said Tux. “The idea of Fall as a construct.”
    I was starting to find this conversation confusing. “All right,” I said, sitting up. “Let’s go find Tux a pumpkin patch.”
    “You know where one is?” said Herbie.
    “Sure I do. There’s one just the next yard over.”
    “Really?” said Tux hopefully, getting up.
    “Huh,” said Herbie. “This I want to see.”

Chapter 2.
    I led the way through the broken fence board to our neighbor’s garden. It was a collection of wooden frames with different types of vegetables growing in them.
    I gestured grandly with my paw. “Behold,” I said.
    Herbie and Tux looked at me blankly.
    “This is not a pumpkin patch,” said Herbie finally.
    “Sure it is,” I said. “Look at all the pumpkins.”
    I gestured grandly again.    
    “These aren’t pumpkins,” said Herbie. “These are tomatoes. Do you even know what a pumpkin is?”
    “Of course I know.” Or I thought I did. I never really paid attention. “Aren’t they just round vegetables?”
    “Technically they’re fruit,” corrected Herbie.
    “Pumpkins are orange. Tomatoes are red,” added Tux.
    “What’s the difference?” I said. I tried to think of what the color orange looked like.
    “Um,” said Tux. “YOU are orange.”
    I looked down at my fur. He was right.
    “Well,” I said. “They’re both round.”
    “It’s not the same,” said Tux.
    “I know who we can ask,” said Herbie.

Chapter 3.
    We found Messy in her usual spot, in the shade under the giant Magnolia tree.
    In the dirt.
    “Why is Messy always in the dirt?” whispered Tux.
    “She calls it Grounding,” whispered Herbie back.
    “Grounding?”
    “Yes,” said Herbie. “She says it’s a therapeutic technique that reconnects her to the earth. Something about electrical charges. She says it lowers her stress.”
    We came up to Messy. She was on her side, bits of leaves and soil clinging to her fur.
    “Messy,” I said quietly.
    She didn’t move.
    “Messy,” I said again, a little louder. One eye blinked open.
    “What,” she said.
    “Do you know where a pumpkin patch is?”
    She closed her eye.
    We waited.
    “Messy,” I said.
    She opened her eye again.
    “You’re still here,” she said.
    “Do you know about any pumpkin patches?” Herbie asked.
    “Pumpkins are orange,” I added helpfully.
    She hissed and sat up. A spider web was draped across her whiskers. I shuddered.
    “Why do you want to know?”
    “Tux wants to experience Fall,” I said. “He can’t unless we go to one.”
    “Although it’s really due to the angle of the sun,” added Herbie.
    “It’s symbolic,” emphasized Tux.
    She sighed and turned around. She lay down again, facing the other direction.
    “End of the street,” she said.
    “Thank you!” said Tux.
    “Enjoy your Grounding,” I said.
    She did not reply.

Chapter 4.
    We followed Messy’s instructions to the end of the street. I was skeptical. I’d been here before. It was just a big field.
    But this time it was different. Now the field had been transformed. It was full of big green leaves and winding vines.
    And then we saw them.
    Large, round, and very, very orange.
    Finally. A true patch of pumpkins.
    Tux was right. It did feel symbolic.
    “Come on!” Tux shouted. “Let’s go!” He raced off, bounding into the leaves, his black and white fur appearing and disappearing into the green.
    I sat down just to take it all in. Herbie sat down next to me.
    “Maybe Tux is right,” I said. “It DOES feel more like Fall now.”
    Herbie licked his paw. “It definitely has a different feel than the tomatoes,” he added.

My hometown high school had a large swimming pool that was open to the public each summer. It was shaped like an L and had three landings at different depths: It started off at four feet, gently sloped down to six feet, and finally, below a high diving board, sank to a final depth of thirteen feet.

As a kid, I would hold my breath and dive down to the bottom of the six foot section and let my eyes wander slowly over to the darkness of the deep end. Though weightless, catching a glimpse of that abyss made my stomach drop. You couldn’t see the very bottom until you had crept along to the very edge of the six-foot drop off, which of course I would do repeatedly. It was only then that you saw an added attraction: the presence of a very large drain at the bottom with a grate covering it.

When I was a little older, I would hold my breath, and, if I swam hard enough, dive to the very bottom. On days I was feeling particularly brave (or foolhardy), I would briefly touch the grate and then race for dear life back up to the surface.

I recently saw a video of a swimming pool that is quite a bit deeper. Called the Y-40 Deep Joy, it has a final resting place of 130 feet. That’s ten times (10! times!) deeper than the pool of my childhood. In fact, the Deep Joy is currently the deepest indoor swimming pool in the world (with a Guinness World Record to prove it). Located in a hotel in Padua, Italy, it features underwater caves for divers to explore and, like my school’s pool, platforms at different levels, including one at 4.3 feet and another at (gulp) 39 feet. There is a clear tunnel placed just under the water’s surface for visitors to watch scuba and free-divers dance in the deep. And of course, there is the deep end, which take the form of a narrow cylindrical well that plunges in semi-darkness to the very bottom.

Search up this pool on the Internet and you will find a video of French freediver Guillaume Nery smoothly swimming through the depths of the pool. This video teases the presence of the bottom in brief snippets as Nery swims from platform to platform. It is only when he reaches the edge of the well that the camera finally faces it head on, allowing the abyss to fill the screen. Nery drops into this darkness like a ballet dancer, arms crossed over his chest, feet together pointing down. His eyes are closed and he looks strangely peaceful as he sinks to the bottom.

You may find yourself holding your breath with him. You might also find yourself watching the video over and over, scaring yourself anew each time. Until, of course, they build a deeper pool.

Imagine taking a walk out in the hot desert of Nevada. The rocky dirt trail crunches underneath you. The sun is bright and hot and reflects off clumps of hard rock so that you have to shield your eyes with a flattened hand. All around you everything is beige, the color interrupted only by sage green bushes scattered across the valley floor and the grey-blue mountains rising up beyond.

Scrambling down some boulders in a narrow gully you come across a hole in the ground, a small rectangular pool of clear, deep blue water. There is a short algae-covered shelf of rock jutting out across a third of the pool, so you roll up your jeans and step in. The water is warm and welcoming, and as you slosh forward, you get to the shelf’s end. Peering over the side you see shimmering shelves of blue and white and green. You decide to take a dip. As you ease yourself into the water, you find a need to tread water, as the sides of the pool are vertical rock, and your feet don’t touch the bottom of this narrow oasis.

In fact, your feet won’t touch for at least another 400 feet down. You are now dangling on the surface of a column of dark water over 40 stories high.

Devil’s Hole is the entrance to a vast limestone chasm whose depth is still not known. United States Geological Survey cave divers sank through the inky blackness to the 436 feet mark in 1991, and with their powerful flashlights could still see for another 150 feet below before it curved out of sight. According to professional diver Jim Houtz, “at the end of the tube it opens again into something else. We don’t know what the next room is, or if it’s a room at all. It’s like infinity.”

The unique nature of Devil’s Hole allows it to perform another cool trick: It serves as an indicator of distant seismic events. An earthquake occurring thousands of miles away will shake the vast reservoir of water deep within Devil’s Hole, and having nowhere to go but up, the pool will violently climb the rocky sides of the cavern only to be sucked down again. This occurs over and over again, appearing very much like a toilet being flushed.

Unfortunately for those enticed by bottomless pits and the claustrophobic abyss, Devil’s Hole is off limits to the public, as it houses one more secret: It is home to the tiny, critically endangered Devil’s Hole Pupfish. In fact, it is the only home of these little bluegrey (male) and brown (female) fish, whose total population hovers around one hundred. These pupfish, or C. diabolis, are extremely endangered, and so their sensitive habitat is surrounded by a tall prison-like barbed wire fence. You can walk out along an enclosed walkway to view the hole from above, but that is as close to the bottomless void as you will be able to get.
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