the great merlini, senior dog to the clan, has gone on to the great sofa in the sky, where, perhaps, he can run, with his nose in the snow, through fields of amazing smells, fed cheeseburgers by ardoring angels, while his littermates frolick at his side...with coop and tilly, ebony and rosie...and granddaddy dick...maybe even ginger, legendary ginger.
my ideas about animals in the afterlife are very egyptian. it started with dinidan, who was burried with spinach noodles, because he loved them...
and if merlin were an ancient, chinese emperor, we would bury him with terra cota statues of cats, life-sized bronze bags of purina dog-chow, sealed jars of peanutbutter dog buscuits, and a great variety of jade bones to gnaw on. the story of his triumphant victory over doggie james would become legend, and be told to small dogs the world over.
what do doggies, wise and wonderful, know of death? what did merlin think, when mom told him that when he opened his eyes he would see, "tilly and mr. dick"?
i hope she was right.
i believe that she was.
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