14 days postmortem

Dog Heaven was everything. Between the sprawling fields, the endless bones, and a rejuvenated body that let me run as fast as a rabbit again, it should have been everything I've ever dreamt of, but I could not enjoy it. Not while Bay hurt as much as she did.

Every day, I went to the television building—or as Geronimo called it, the Earth Observatory—and watched Bay's life without me unfold. Days passed. Then weeks. She slowly began to resemble the Bay I recognized, but she was never quite the same.

Dog Heaven days aligned with Earth days. So when Bay was awake, I was awake. When she slept, I slept. Or at least I tried to. Sometimes I dozed off in front of the television. On a rare occasion, I managed to pull myself away and find a comfy bed to nest in, but the restless naps never lasted long.

The Earth Observatory floor was like laying on the biggest, softest bed at the pet store. Every morning around the time Bay's ear-piercing alarm went off, I curled up with a bone as I gnawed and waited for her to wake up. Some days, though, she slept nearly the whole morning. It had never occurred to me that she could snooze past our usual morning walk time.

One particular morning, Bay stayed in bed well past lunchtime to watch movies by herself. Then dinnertime came and she still had not moved from beneath the covers. The only signs of life came from when she rustled to get more comfortable or sobbed at the movies on her computer.

I licked my nose as if I could lick away the water from her face. I so desperately wished I could. Just like the other dogs who watched their humans, I was powerless.

Eventually, Bay switched from her computer screen to her phone. Her loud movie-watching finally ceased but water still quietly slid down her cheeks. Lifting my head for a better view, I realized she was looking at pictures of me.

A whine escaped me and my ears pulled back. No matter what Bay did, she was upset, and there was nothing I could do about it. Even though I promised to ease the pain of losing me, I was doing a terrible job at it. Judging by how much time she spent alone, I was failing. Simply watching her would not cut it. I had to do something.

As my tail slid across the floor in thought, something caught it mid-movement. I jumped back and faced my assailant, a growl emanating from my throat. If those infernal squirrels infiltrated Dog Heaven...

A black-and-white-furred puppy pounced at my paws. I skittered backward but it leaped at me again.

"Go away," I barked, but the puppy persisted, this time aiming towards the tail stuck between my legs. Its clumsy body bounced and scampered between my four paws, weaving in and out between my legs in pursuit of my tail.

A groan escaped my throat. I could not stand puppies.

"Get out of here, kid," I warned cautiously. Puppies had no sense of personal space. They viewed everything as a toy, even something as sacred as another dog's tail. Worst of all, they barely understood how to interact with other dogs. There was only one way to get the puppy to listen.

As the kid pranced around me, yapping its shrill voice that wouldn't scare a butterfly, my eyes tracked it until I found an opening.

When the puppy zoomed far enough out from under me, I snapped my jaw at it with a bark. Not nearly close enough to catch its fur, but just so it would get the hint and stop bothering me. It was a drastic choice, but puppies sometimes needed to be set straight. Especially when they refused to listen.

Puppies were overly sensitive creatures, and this one was stupid enough to take my advance personally. It yipped and whimpered as it skittered away from me, hiding in plain sight in the middle of the Earth Observatory. Its tail curled under its legs and it stared up at me with annoyingly wide eyes.

"I told you to stop," I said, glancing around at the other dogs to see if anyone's judging eyes were staring at us. Luckily, they were all too busy watching their humans. Then the door outside opened and Geronimo trotted in.

"There you are," she said as she circled the puppy. "The rest of the class is waiting."

She nudged the puppy along with her nose, urging it to its feet. The puppy immediately forgot the lesson I had just taught it and scampered through Geronimo's legs, but she did not seem to mind.

"Was this little one bothering you, Hugo?" She asked, turning towards me.

"Yeah," I said, annoyance still lacing my voice. "It was."

"He didn't mean any harm. That's just what puppies do."

I flattened my ears, to which Geronimo turned to lead the puppy out the door. As they ambled away, my head fell and my ears flattened at a terrifying thought.

What is a puppy doing in Dog Heaven?

One glance back at the television screen showed me that Bay still had not moved and that she probably was not going to. I sighed, knowing I would regret what I was about to do, and chased after the golden retriever and the puppy.

"Geronimo," I called as I caught up to her. Her slowed pace turned the puppy's attention back to my tail, which swished behind me to avoid its amateur attempts to pounce on it. "What's the kid doing here?"

The retriever's head tilted.

"He's not supposed to be. He escaped training."

"No," I said, my tail moving like it was dodging puppy-sized bullets. "What's it doing here?"

Geronimo's ears perked up then relaxed again.

"He's never been to Earth if that's what you're asking. He's in training with Special Assignments." She pointed her nose behind her towards what looked like a human-built house. A short picket fence guarded the grass around the front, concealing several other puppies the same age as the one fighting to catch my tail. Straining my ears, I recognized the familiar yipping of an amateur dog's under-developed bark. Their varied fur colors and patterns made them appear as a moving ball of camouflage.

"Special Assignments?" I asked as my tail barely dodged the puppy's latest advance.

"Some dogs, like yourself, start on Earth. Others, like this little one, are chosen to go through training for humans who need more than a pet to love. We pre-train them here and then send them to Earth for further training before they're assigned a human to help."

My ears went back in thought. Bay needed more than a mere pet; she needed a best friend. A confidante. That was exactly what I was to her. It had never occurred to me that some humans needed more than a friend in a dog. I just could not believe the minuscule thing hunting my tail was destined for more than a life of treats and couch snuggles. It seemed more like a nuisance than anything else.

"You mean this thing is meant to—"

An involuntary yelp escaped me as razor-sharp puppy teeth sank into my tail. I spun around to face the puppy and growled at it again. This time, it took somewhat of a hint and cowered away, staring up at me with annoyingly big eyes.

Geronimo gently guided the puppy away from me with her nose.

"Well, not everyone makes the cut," she said pointedly, hinting that this was not the first time the puppy had run amuck. "But that doesn't mean we can't at least try."

Without another word, Geronimo began to lead the puppy back to the trainee house. The puppy had lost its bounce as it sauntered next to its leader.

My tail fell and my ears tucked back. Earth was a beautiful place. Every dog deserved to have a human as good as Bay. Despite the puppy's annoying habits, I did not want to be the reason it did not get to experience life on Earth.

I glanced back at the Earth Observatory. It was nighttime, as indicated by the rising moon and the distant howling of other dogs. If Bay had not already fallen asleep in my absence, she would soon. I longed to check on her, but something pulled me in the opposite direction. Perhaps I could spare just a minute more.

"Wait," I called. Once again, I ran to catch up to Geronimo and the puppy in front of the house. My chest rose above the short picket fence. I could easily step over it but the puppies were small and clumsy enough that they did not need much height to keep them in. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a fresh puppy-sized hole dug beneath the fence. "You said some don't make the cut. What happens to them?"

"They join dogs who died without an owner in Human Heaven to be adopted by someone who wanted a dog but could not have one in life. They simply enter through the same door you'll go through with your human when she arrives. You'll have to excuse me now. The little ones are due for bedtime training."

Geronimo picked the puppy up by the scruff of its neck and dropped it on the other side of the fence with the rest of its classmates. Upon returning to its enclosure, the puppy turned its attention to hunting its classmates' tails instead of mine as Geronimo ushered them all into the house.

Relieved to finally be rid of the obnoxious little demon, I returned to the Earth Observatory. Bay was still in bed, her hands curled near her head with the edge of my collar poking out from beneath her pillow. Even though she was asleep, evidence that she'd been crying showed on her face through water tracks and puffy eyes.

Bay had cried herself to sleep and I missed it. There was nothing for me to do, but I couldn't help but feel responsible. Especially after I promised to help her.

I huffed a long sigh and settled in for the night. After leaving her for Geronimo and that puppy, I could not bring myself to leave. So I curled up, tucked my nose under my tail, and waited until I drifted to sleep.

— — —

I awoke to my tail swishing across the floor and something pulling at my fur. I lifted my groggy eyes to find the same puppy from yesterday barreling over my body.

"Hey," I said, shaking out of my sleepy haze. "Knock it off."

As the puppy attempted to scale my side, I rolled over, sending it sliding back to the floor. The puppy was as clueless as a rock and it began its attempt to climb over me again.

"You're going to be a problem, aren't you?" I asked, resigning myself to the fact that, until Geronimo came looking, I would be stuck with the kid.

To my surprise, it paused and stared past me as if it understood. I followed its gaze, then realized it was watching Bay on the television. She must have woken up while I was still sleeping because she had moved from her bed to the couch with a bowl of her morning cereal.

"That's Bay," I said, hoping it really did understand me. "She's the best human out there. Never yelled, snuggled every night, let me on the couch... Bay is a model human. Any dog would be lucky to have her."

The puppy panted and wagged its tail as it stared at me. Its big, dark eyes indicated there was barely a cohesive thought to be formed within that young head.

Seeing the child's blank stare, I remembered the family I lived with before Bay. They meant the world to me, but I meant nothing to them. The weeks I spent in the cage before Bay found me had left me thinking I would never step outside again because of how high-strung I was. But Bay still took me home and loved me, despite my excessive shows of affection.

No, not despite my shows of affection, but because of them. She accepted me for who I was and taught me right from wrong.

If I could reel it in, then perhaps there was hope for this puppy. After all, it was still young. Much younger than I was before my first family gave me away. It still had time to learn.

But it was to be sent to Human Heaven soon. Geronimo had all but deemed it too rambunctious for Special Assignments.

Dog Heaven was ideal for any dog. I imagined Human Heaven would be the same, if not better. What did the afterlife mean if a dog never got to experience the feeling of tired paws after chasing after a tennis ball for hours on end or getting sick from sneaking too many treats? Without anything to compare it to, living the same perfect life for the rest of eternity seemed nauseating.

Bay needed a new friend to live with, and this puppy simply needed to live.

"Do you like her?" I asked the puppy. Its tail thumped against my fur from where it remained perched on my body. "You want to meet her?"

The puppy panted even more fervently as it stamped its paws into my side.

"Perfect," I grunted against the excited jabs. "I'm going to show you how to get to her."