Do Dogs Really Go To Heaven?

Yesterday we buried our dog, Pepper. At 13 years old, she'd been around most of my kids' childhood. In their minds really, we've always had Pepper. If you've ever had a dog, then you know how she really becomes one of the family. And Pepper was no different. It was very difficult to let go of her. So when Emma was saying her good-byes, she told Pepper that when she went to heaven, she'd be able to run and jump like she used to, not just shuffle and fall like in her old age. Later Emma asked me if I thought that she was telling Pepper the truth. Emma doesn't like to lie. So I wondered: Do dogs really go to heaven?

On first thought, no, dogs don't go to heaven, any more than cats or squirrels or cockroaches. Humans are God's people, not animals. And if we assume our dogs follow us to heaven, then how about our hamsters. Or fish. Or even mosquitoes. Hmmm... Not likely.

In Pepper's final hours, we laughed and cried, similar in so many ways to other loved ones' deaths I have witnessed before. We petted her, comforted her, and talked to her like she could understand (which maybe she could after all.)

But heaven? I suppose that depends on how you picture heaven. Or if you believe in heaven at all. Because I'll guarantee that if you have ten people in a room discussing heaven, you'll get ten different descriptions. Personally, I don't know what to expect, assuming I even make the cut. And those of us who say they know for sure, well that's just wishful thinking. But somehow I'm not expecting anything as literal as streets of gold, that's for sure. I don't know what heaven will be, but I dont' think it will be like that.

We had our times, Pepper and us, that's for sure. The time she ate the $80, we almost killed her. And there was the time she ate the bag of chocolate chips. Trust me, you don't want to know the details of that escapade. Except that she almost died from it, and it was not pretty. Or the time she ate Sara's jeans, or Emma's German book, or... Yeah, you get the idea.

But through it all, Pepper really was our best friend. I know that sounds trite, but you dog people know exactly what I'm talking about. She was never mad at us, she never called us names, and she never ignored us. No matter what happened, she would always greet us with her tail wagging, always nuzzle us for just a little more attention, and in general remind us that, even in our lowest moments, there was at least one living being that still loved us.

But through the years, her run became a gallop, then maybe a shuffle. As her legs succumbed to old age, it became almost impossible for her to go up or down the stairs to the back yard. It got harder and harder for her to even get up off the floor. When Sara came home after being gone for months, Pepper finally got to the point where she couldn't even stand with our help. Almost like she held on to see her one last time. Maybe that's crazy, but it sure seemed like it.

One thing I do know. I want to die like Pepper did. Surrounded by all her loved ones, she waited patiently for the injection, and then she quickly just seemed to go to sleep. I could go for that kind of death.

We buried her in a very big hole in the back yard, by all the cats, the guinea pigs, and more than a few fish. Mary put a dog treat and a dollar bill in the grave, "her favorite foods." We all helped cover her up. It was very sad, but somehow death is a part of life, and it was as it should be.

When I got back from my run today, I sat on the porch to cool down, like I always do. And I instinctively took a few steps to the door to let Pepper out to join me, like she always did. Then I remembered. She was not coming out today.

But heaven? No I'm not sure. Seeing Pepper with me there really sounds like just wishful thinking. But we've been promised great things for heaven. And I know one thing that just simply can't be there, and that's sadness. Heaven and sadness are mutually exclusive. God has promised us that much I think. If heaven is even close to what's promised, then we just can't be sad there.

So at the risk of this being one of those "Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" answers, I really have to rethink this one. Because if my kids go to heaven and Pepper's not there, that will make them sad. And there's no sadness in heaven. So by that logic, yes Emma, Pepper will be there in heaven too. You'll see her again, and yes, she'll be running and jumping.

Seeing my kids happy, would make me happy. And there is no sadness in heaven.