I wrote an article the other day on prayers for pet funerals.
Really Sam? Pet funerals?
Yes, I know…cheesy with an extra slice (but there is no shame in trying to make a few bucks)
Ok, maybe a little shame. I would post a link to the article but my editor sent it back for revision. No comments please.
But the point is, the next day my dad calls me and tells me his dog died.
Freaky, right?
So, now in a matter of a few weeks I get to tell the kids their favorite animal kicked the bucket, right on the heels of losing their great-uncle.
The sad part is my daughter will cry over the dog. A lot. Maggie was a beautiful blond Labrador and everybody knows that labs are the best kind of dog.
And I will have to tell my daughter, because she will ask, about pets and heaven.
And then I will have to lie.
Because I don’t believe pets go to heaven, although I do think there are animals in heaven.
One day at work, we spent a whole afternoon debating this very topic. And I learned that there are passionate and crazed people who think I am wrong.
Like death threat wrong.
But I am sticking to my guns, and on the off-chance that I am mistaken, I am more than willing to stand corrected; because honestly, I really miss Wilbur, my old childhood dog that I lost as a teen.
It sure would make this conversation easier if I was wrong.
Maybe my freaky intuition will give me some profound words to say.
Then again… sometimes there are no words.
