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Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Tuesday

Happy Hunting Grounds

There has to be another place for pets when they die. No, not pets, but dogs. Because after you have seen a cat playing with the mouse it is going to polish off as dinner- innocence is the last word that crosses your mind. Rabbits and hamsters, well maybe. But they do not connect quite on a cognitive level. And fish- frankly there is something unsettling about a Happy Swimming Pool of sorts for creatures that are not always names and are then flushed down a loo- to dispose off their mortal remains.

As for other non-pet types. For non-vegetarian me, it is difficult to contemplate what that would entail- and then my religious Hindu past not all that long ago- reincarnation and its implications for me begin to rear their rather alarming heads.

But dogs, most definitely need a hereafter. Not humans, not cuddly bunnies or hammies or kittens( re- the bird and mouse thingie is enough not to warrant an eternal rest). But dogs do. Indeed the very existence of dogs- with their own quirks, foibles and personalities screams for it. Where else could you find such character, that humor , those eyes, that innocence, all wrapped up and served with so much winsome loyalty? In a super-being manual I would think.

There has to be some super happy green meadow kind of place with plenty of place to roll around, some garbage to sniff( hey this is a doggy heaven, not a fastidious smell-clean kind of meadow you would like to be in- and anyhow I don't think there is a heaven for humans. But more on that later.). There will be babbling brooks and bunnies to chase galore( now I do not know if these are bunnies who used to be pets, in which case this would be their version of hell, but I do not like eternal punishment for any nature of being).

There will be all the nice things to eat. And quantities of them. No baths- ever. And no fleas or tick powders- and there will be ever willing humans willing to go for ever longer walks ( about those humans , I think they are programmed androids- humans do not get heaven- not in my belief, they do not.) The same human-androids ill also throw balls and sticks and exist to brush the dogs and take care of them. There shall be couches and beds to sleep on. Pillows to tear into- with cascading feathers. Mailmen and newspaper boys and small kids to terrorize( again some android forms). And every dog will win every fight. That maybe a little difficult logistically and all that- but it is not heaven for nothing!

There will be long summer days- and short bouts of wonderful rain- so that there can be puddles and wonderfully squishy smell mud. Every dog will get his or her own puddle to roll about it, with little creepy crawly things to chase and bark at. And of course rotting garbage- not very toxic- but stuff that is just very very ripe- and amazing for the olfactory senses.

There will be human food to eat. Lots of bones- and ample space to bury them. There will be sand to dig, water to splash in, maybe swim a little and when the dogs get tired there will be lovely soft cushions to sink into- where they can continue chasing their rabbits or deer or whatever.

I don't believe there is anything after this life anyways. Not for humans. Eternal punishment I cannot stomach- and eternal life – well one life is long enough- atheist worldview notwithstanding. As humans we are way too complex for our version of a doggie happy hunting grounds- internet access, iTunes, technology, food, drink, nature, SUVS, flat screen TVS, 401(K)s reitrement plans, government, we will want a lot. It is just not feasible. And frankly we are not like dogs, we do not deserve it.

But dogs, they certainly do. Indeed so much, that if I were to know for sure that a doggie heaven existed- I would revise my afterlife beliefs. Most certainly.

Wednesday

For whom the bell tolled©

A mass email
"Services for ......"
Select and hit delete.
Then something intervenes
Perhaps a delayed
Respect for the dead
And I read the message.
Short
Perfunctary
Business-like.

A young man
Struck in his prime
A speeding car.
A young man
I did not know
Will never know.
Will not need to know?
The cynic inside asks.

Re-read
Hit on reply
Writer's block
Of a different kind
Pause, fumble
Too pretentious this
Too cold that.

Delete?
Too callous

I wonder
How close should
He have been
For the bell to toll
For me.