AFTER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE

“You preserve both men and animals alike.” (Psalm 36:6)

Some people are under the illusion that our pets will be waiting for us when we get to heaven.

…I’m one of them

Yep. Guilty as charged.

I believe that the Redeemed will see their pets (and any number and manner of other animals) again. A proverbial Noah’s Ark.

In our day and time, there has been a couple of rather bizarre interventions, by well-intended people, to give their pets eternal life.

Alan Alda wrote a book titled, “Never Stuff a Dead Dog.” It seems that after old Rover crossed the Rainbow Bridge, his dad had him taxidermied.

However, the finished product bore little or no resemblance to the original, and their house guests were often unnerved as they walked through the front door, and saw the non-descript, snarling, (but admittedly silent) beast standing next to the fireplace. Ultimately, Rover was consigned to the front porch, and was used to scare away solicitors! I forget what Alda said about his final disposition. For all I know, he may still be standing guard at the front door of that humble old house.

And if you happen to find yourself among the owners of one of the Forbes 500, you can clone little Buddy, and do a ‘re-run.’ (The closest thing to bringing him or her back from the dead).

Speaking of ‘Buddy,’ after the death of my little Buddy, a beautiful Shih Tzu, she (yes, she)

…came back for a visit.

Well, a couple of visits. (I kid you not). I wrote about her unexpected appearances in my book, “A Man’s Tribute to His Devoted Dogs.”

Pt. 2

A week, perhaps two, had passed, and I found myself in the throes of grief. And as I laid down that night, and prepared to sleep, and without the slightest warning

…something snuggled up against my right shoulder.

I felt, rather than heard, something breathing. In and out. In and out. And you might naturally ask, why would a spirit being, man or beast, need to breathe? Honestly, I haven’t the foggiest, except, perhaps, to make me aware of, and reassure me of her presence.

After a few minutes, it seems Buddy decided to reposition herself. Even after her death I kept, (and still maintain) her pillow at the foot of the bed. Suddenly, I felt my dearly departed pooch lay down on that fluffy piece of rectangular comfort. Her welcome presence lay hard against my feet. There was no mistaking the weight of that sixteen or seventeen pound creature, as she took her rightful place on the left edge of her full-sized pillow.

The experience was so real and so welcome that I hesitated to move the slightest inch. Ultimately, however, I drifted off to sleep.

And I suppose if that had been the end of it, a decade later I might still be questioning the reality of what transpired that night.

However, as I was walking in my neighborhood one evening, perhaps a month after the loss of my beloved Buddy, and I found myself reminiscing about the old girl,

…I saw it,

(or should I use a different pronoun)?

…I saw her.

Pt. 3

Suddenly, not thirty feet ahead of me, what seemed to be a little white pooch appeared out of nothingness, slowly walked across my path way, and entered my neighbor’s front yard.

And as quickly as she appeared, she immediately relinquished her physicality.

I can’t account for why I was blessed to realize such momentary manifestations of my precious pooch. But at least for me there remains that quiet reassurance that our pets are alive and well, and reside in a land where the roses never fade, and no tear dims the eye.

There’s a poignant cartoon which depicts St. Peter standing at the pearly gates. Next to him is a dog thoroughly overcome with excitement. In the foreground we see an old man approaching the duo.

St. Peter bends his head towards ‘Rover’ and exclaims,

“So this is your friend, Bobby, who you’ve been “going on about” for the past 50 years!”

And in much the same manner, I like to believe my own little Buddy, and a couple of my other dearly departed pooches, eagerly await my arrival.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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