Theo and the Devil's Bridge

     Call us crazy. Knowing what we now know, we would never take Theo with us. But . . . we figure Devil's Bridge in Antigua can't be that dangerous. After all, it's one of the recommended tourist attractions. If you hire a guide (like we do) for a tour of the island, you will almost certainly end up there. 

       It's famous. 

       All we know as we drive across the island is that Devil's Bridge is a natural formation. A sight to see. Our guide, an island native, assures us it is a sight not to be missed.

        "Theo, do you want to come with us?"

         Theo, with a wide eyed look on his face, shrugs. He doesn't seem all that interested, but he hops into the car, nevertheless.

          As we get closer and closer, we're treated to beautiful scenery. The water seems calm and peaceful. So far, so good. 

          Then we learn some interesting facts--that we shouldn't get too close because there is no jumping off the bridge located precariously near treacherous waves that beat against the rocks. There is no falling off the bridge. There is no slipping off the bridge. Because rescue is impossible.

          We learn that two Canadians disappeared--like totally gone and never seen again--at Devil's Bridge. We learn that people go there specifically if they don't want to come back. 

          We park some distance away and walk. We smell the sea. The sun is out. We feel the wind against our faces. But the water is no longer calm. It's angry. Aggressive even.

 

           "Keep an eye on Theo," I whisper to Dan.

           "Maybe we should have left him in the car."

            That suggestion begins to haunt me. It is slowly dawning on me that this place is dangerous in a weird sort of way. Don't get me wrong. We're not the only people here. Other tourists are milling around looking. Some have even left the less dangerous rock perch (which we're standing on) and have ventured further out--closer to the bridge of death (as I now imagine it.)

            There are no other animals in sight. No cats. No dogs. Even the birds seem to be giving this place a wide berth. 

            But everyone is standing around, talking, taking photos, even videos of this remarkable sight. 

            Theo hasn't left our side. But he is looking. The crashing waves can't be some kind of siren's call, can they? Remember, Theo is an odd cat. He doesn't dislike water. But, so far, he's being a good kid. 

 

         Dan decides that he can't get a good enough photo of the bridge. It is a bit mesmerizing when you stand there and watch the waves coming in and out. He ventures closer to the bridge. I keep my distance. The wet rocks are slippery. 

           I wish he wouldn't go out there. Bad thoughts spiral through me head. What if Dan slips and falls? No rescue. "Be careful," I shout, but he doesn't hear me. 

           Then I see it. Theo, who one minute is casually observing this treacherous bridge, decides--without saying a word or giving me any kind of warning--to follow Dan. He is literally teetering from one rock to the other as he makes his way closer to the crashing waves. Rocks that resemble volcanic rocks, an uneven surface replete with pits and holes.

         "Theo." 

          He doesn't hear me either. 

          This is not good. I see now that this is what people call a window of opportunity. Act now before it's too late. I follow, slip sliding over rocks that feels like glass.  

          Dan stops to take his video. Theo is moving closer to the end of the rock, the cliff. Sniffing. I cup my hands and shout as loud as I can. "Theo. Get Theo."

          But I am shouting into the wind, and my voice sounds like a whisper. Ten feet way, I estimate, and it hits me I might not get there in time. What if Theo runs away from me? What if he misjudges where the rocks end and infinity begins? What if he slips . . .

          Dan finishes his video and turns around. He sees Theo. A look of surprise flashes across his face. He takes a few steps and scoops Theo into his arms. He looks up.

          "Hey, what are you doing out here? It's kind of slippery."

          I have no words to express how I feel. I push the panic down deeper. And smile. 

          "He's quite a little adventurer, isn't he?" Dan marvels.

           "A real gangster," I reply as I take Theo from Dan. His fur feels like a wet ermine coat. 

           "Come on, you," I coo, so happy to have him safe and sound. At least for one more day.