A STORY WORTH TELLING
“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.” — Mark Twain
“Do you think animals … our pets … will be in heaven?” my friend asked.
I thought for a minute before answering and before taking time to shovel another spade of dirt from the hole I dug.
“I don’t know,” I said. “The Bible doesn’t directly address that topic. Some say yes, they will be, based on indirect reference to animals in the Scriptures. Others say no because the Bible doesn’t mention animals having a soul or the ability to follow God’s will.” I took my time making the hole a little larger while considering whether my answer was appropriate or sufficient.
Then, resting on the shovel for a minute, I said, “There are lots of topics in the Bible that have no bearing on salvation. The kind where our opinion one way or the other won’t have any bearing on where we spend eternity. This is one of those questions.”
I rambled on. “While I can’t tell you for sure whether our pets will be in heaven,” I said, “I can tell you about a few I’ve had that deserve to be there … in my humble opinion.”
I shared memories of my first dog when I was 6 years old, a faithful mutt named Brownie I had to give up when we moved.
That broke my childhood heart.
I talked about Max, an old basset hound I adopted later in life, mine and his. That canine traveled across Texas with me and proved to be a fine dog by any standard.
And I recalled Benny, the feisty and funny miniature schnauzer that enjoyed every minute of life — his and mine.
“A dog is the only creature on Earth that loves you more than he loves himself,” I said. “Love a dog and it will love you back tenfold — no questions asked. Scold one that loves you, and it will tuck its tail between its legs and beg for your forgiveness with its eyes, never questioning whether you were right or wrong.”
I laughed. “And if you don’t believe that,” I said, “then try coming home late one night to your wife and your dog with no explanation. Then pay careful attention to which one of them is happier to see you.”
I added, “Never trust anyone who tells you your pet is just a dog. A dog gives you so many good times to remember: Afternoon walks around the neighborhood, never tiring of fetching a toy or a ball as many times as you throw it, napping at your feet, letting you know that its favorite time is with you.”
I shared another thought.
“Dogs come into our lives to teach us about love. And they depart to teach us about loss.”
I thought no dog could ever replace Max. I sat on the floor and wept when it was his time to go, after arthritis robbed him of his joy and his ability to walk But I was wrong. When Benny the runt that no one wanted came along, that changed. The tiny puppy napped in my lap from day one, assuring me I had a new furry friend just as loving, trusting and entertaining.
And he was right. “One thing about our pets,” I said, “no matter how many years we get with them, it’s never enough. Max and Benny became traveling companions going to many places with me. Making memories and giving me stories about the love and companionship of a pet that I could bore you with for hours.”
Finishing the sad task I had volunteered to perform for my friend, I placed the small, lifeless, furry body in the hole I had been digging. Then I covered it with dirt.
“Thank you, little kitty,” I offered as an abbreviated eulogy, “for the brief moments of happiness, love, laughter and memories you left us with.”
“The best thing I can say about our pets,” I added, “is if we’re lucky, they will come into our life, steal our heart and change everything before they have to go.”
While I can’t say with any authority where our pets go from here, I can say without hesitation that I’ve been blessed more than once by “just a dog” or “just a cat” that has left me with heavenly memories.
