Dogs in Heaven

When I was in sixth grade, I adopted a stray collie mix I named Red Baron. He was a child of the wild and refused to be domesticated. We didn't have much time together, but my memories of our relationship can bring me to my knees in a heartbeat. He'd meet me on the walk home from school and we'd roam the woods as a pack of two.

One day, my parents met me instead of Red Baron. They gently explained he'd been hit by a car and killed. A dark pit of despair pulled me into it's vortex and I cried for days. Finally, I comforted myself by imagining Red Baron waiting for me in heaven. We'd be together again some day and nothing would ever come between us.

Then I found out that according to the Bible, dogs don't have souls. Their lives are supposedly transitory and when they're gone, they're gone for good. Aghast, I wondered how heaven could provide eternal bliss without dogs. Even as a twelve year old, I understood that a dogless heaven would be a dismal place.

Forty years later, I still believe that heaven by definition would welcome dogs and be inhabited by every creature we've attached ourselves to in this life, every living thing that has taught us the meaning of joy.

After-life will never be demystified. No one can offer proof of what lies beyond this life. In fact, no one knows what will happen on any given day. What is sure is that those of us who are lucky enough to share our lives with dogs are better people for it. What is certain is that love fortified with an absolute trust is the strongest force in this world. What I choose to believe is that love like that survives beyond this realm. And what I feel in my heart is that Frieda lives on and will be wagging her tail when we meet again.