All Dogs Go to Heaven

If you're wondering, I started 301 today, and I had a great time, but today's blog isn't about me. If I haven't spoken to you yet, then you haven't heard the news. On Sunday morning, my dog Sable passed away. Man, that's really hard to see written. So today's blog is going to be more of a tribute to her then anything, because this dog was really special.

I got Sable about 10 years ago. We had taken Shelly back to the breeder we had gotten her from in order to knock her up so we could get another puppy (not that Shelly wasn't great, but we thought she needed a friend, and who better than a son or daughter?). I won't go into details, but it didn't work out as such, and the breeder offered me the option of trying to knock up my dog again or, giving me a puppy. I remember seeing this little gray dog that just loved being chased around the yard, especially by this huge Rotweiller (the Rot really liked this little dog, as she was very gentle when she caught her). I remember asking, "What about her? Can I take her home?" The breeder agreed, and Sable became our new dog. We have this weird thing of naming all of our pets "S" names, and I was really into wrestling at the time, so that's how she got her name. From the moment we brought her home, her and Shelly were inseperable. I swear, it was hilarious to watch them play in our front yard and watch Sable drag Shelly by her tail. Oddly enough, Shelly loved it! One of the first things people would notice about Sable is that she was grey (technical term was "blue mearle"). Even though she looked older, she was the puppy of the two. That, and she would force you to pet her head. If you started to pet her and then you stopped, she would force her head back under your hand and make you pet her. She really was something else.

I'll never forget the time I was headed out of town on a business trip (this is back when I worked for "the man," travelling the country in the closed circuit TV business), and I was driving to Alabama to have Kevin watch the dogs. Shelly sat on my lap (that one looked and played like a puppy until the day she died), whereas Sable, God bless her...let's just say she had a low center of gravity. She wasn't fat, she litteraly just weighed a lot. Not wanting to be outdone by her adopted mother, she decided to crawl up on my shoulders and sit there...the entire trip from Atlanta to Birmingham. I couldn't move her, she was so damn comfortable. A few years later, my dad drove up to Birmingham from Florida to take the dogs to their final home. My dad has an interesting bond with animals. Animals simply love my dad, no matter how tempermental they are with anyone else. To Shelly and Sable, my dad was theirs, and not to be shared with anyone, including our mom. My dad had a heart attack back in 2004, and the best medicine he could've received was the love and affection from those 2 dogs. I couldn't have picked a better doctor or nurse to look after him. After Shelly died, Sable kind of lost a step in her personality, but what she lost there, she knew she had to make up for Shelly. This dog took such good care of my dad, I really can't thank her enough. A few months ago, my mom called me and told me that Sable had had a stroke, and that she was moving slower, and my parents were just making her as comfortable as they could. I recently bought her some pain medicine (and in a beautiful twist of irony, of course it arrived at my parents house today). Anyway, I'd always ask about her when I called, and the answer was always fine. However, I knew she didn't have much time left when my parents called me on Saturday and told me that she had stopped eating and wouldn't take her medicine. When I saw the missed phone call on my caller ID Sunday morning, I didn't even need to listen to my mom's message. The Lord had called Sable home, which brings me to my next point. I don't want to get on a soapbox or espouse my religious beliefs, because I truly respect the beliefs and opinions of others, whether I agree or disagree with said beliefs/opinions. However, I'll say this: I truly believe that all dogs go to heaven, and if you're reading this blog now and you've ever lost a pet, know that he or she is truly in a better place. They don't feel any pain, and they continue to bring joy and love to all those around them. Seriously, could you imagine Heaven without our pets?

"Hi, welcome to Heaven, here's your room key (I have no idea why locks would be needed in Heaven, but just go with it). Heaven is truly the greatest place ever."

"Wow, I made it to Heaven!! This is great, I can see my dog again!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but there's been a big misunderstanding; we don't allow pets, trash pick up is on Tuesday, and HBO costs extra. However, ESPN is free."

That's not Heaven. By the very definition of the word, pets have to be there, and they are there, and I know Shelly greeted Sable with a big kiss on her wet nose, and they immediately began to chase each other in a great big meadow that God prepared for all dogs. The only difference is, Shelly has her young pup legs, so she can keep up a whole lot better with Sable. And I know they can see and hear me know, and they both know how much they are loved and missed by their family.