7 years, 7 months postmortem

After weeks of waiting impatiently, the day had finally come for us to send one of Geronimo's flunked trainees Earthside. Except this time, we had to follow her rules to the letter. That meant no interfering, no training, and no dropping a puppy off at Bay's doorstep.

I'd never been inside the trainee house before. I had stood outside the short picket fence countless times, but I never dared to cross over—mostly for fear of my tail being attacked by a hoard of mongrel puppies.

The house looked exactly like one would on Earth. It almost resembled the house Bay grew up in, which was in the middle of the biggest field I had ever seen pre-death. The floors of the trainee house didn't creak like Grandpaw's did, but the sound of claws clicking against worn wood brought back memories I had not thought about in a long time.

Inside, the current batch of recruits were gathered around a hallway door that opened into a dark closet for their Earthside ceremony. Unlike the double-sided door in the void, this one was significantly more understated. As one of several identical chestnut doors in the hallway, it stood inconspicuous and seemingly insignificant.

Geronimo sat at attention in front of a line of puppies, all of which mirrored her stance, except for one. The puppy at the far end of the line was almost a carbon copy of Geronimo, but only in looks. It could barely sit still, seemingly preoccupied with an invisible bug skittering around its paws.

Stormy and I watched from the sidelines, careful not to make a peep. While I was focused on getting through the ceremony as quickly as possible, Stormy listened to Geronimo's speech intently.

"You are all about to embark on your greatest journey yet: Earth. You won't remember your training here in Dog Heaven for a while. Do not be alarmed. Each of you were singled out for your natural inclinations towards compassion, diligence, and resourcefulness. You all will be born and bred for a very specific purpose: to help humans."

I looked at Stormy, who sat at attention as if he were one of the puppies in training. His tail rested flat and unmoving on the floor. Whatever hold Geronimo had over her recruits apparently transcended pre-birth, life, and death. A part of me wondered if he relished Geronimo's words, considering his own unorthodox Earthside "ceremony."

"... I don't know who you will serve, or how you will do it," Geronimo continued. "All I know is that you were destined for greatness. You will be born to serve not only as a companion, but as a support for humans."

The puppy jumped to its feet, clearly not heeding a word Geronimo said. It began to wander off, but the intuitive retriever stuck a paw out to guide it back in line without batting an eye.

"This is it," Geronimo said, her commanding voice taking control of her recruits. "Until we meet again."

As if on cue, the puppies rose to their paws and walked towards the door. Their ability to follow rules and commands shocked me. Based on how the kids acted everywhere else, one would assume they were all feral, tail-chasing demons hellbent on annoying us all to death—again.

Stormy and I watched in awe while Geronimo nudged the puppies through the door, each one a willing and obedient participant. When it came time for the puppy on the end, Geronimo blocked the door with her body before it could mindlessly follow its classmates.

"Not yet, little one," she said softly. Then, turning Stormy and me, her voice stiffened into its usual commanding tone. "This one was chosen for your human. We've known from the start of her training that she would be a better fit for Human Heaven."

As Geronimo spoke, the oblivious puppy tried to maneuver past Geronimo, who continued to herd it further away from the door without its knowledge.

"This kid is a dud," Stormy whispered under his breath.

"You think you were any better?" I asked. I agreed that the puppy most likely had rocks in its head, just as Stormy did when I met him. I at least got to train him for Bay's preferences, but I couldn't do that with this one. All I could do was hope that it would figure it out sooner or later.

My head tilted to the side. "What about this kid?"

"I'm sending this one to a litter near your human."

I blinked incredulously at Geronimo while Stormy avoided the puppy's advances towards his tail.

"How is she supposed to find it or know it's for her?"

"That's up to her," Geronimo said. "I don't love that you two feel the need to uproot a centuries-old tradition, but at least we're not dumping anyone in the middle of a thunderstorm." The retriever shot me a threatening glance. "Even if Bay is not interested, this puppy is going to a reputable breeder known for fair treatment of their dogs. She'll go to a loving home regardless without any interference from you two idiots."

Geronimo picked up the puppy by the scruff of the neck from where it was stalking Stormy's tucked tail. It fell limp in the grasp of Geronimo's jaw, its tiny legs, stumpy tail, and potbelly hanging in the air like a soft toy. She rested it at the threshold, where it regained its footing against the solid wood flooring.

"Off you go," Geronimo urged. The puppy bounded forward yipping without hesitation, eager to follow its classmates but unaware that it was not destined for the same kind of life.

The shadows beyond the door swallowed the eager puppy and its shrill yaps of excitement until Geronimo, Stormy, and I were left alone in the eerily quiet trainee house.

Now that we had finally gotten our way, the tension in the air settled between us and the retriever, who watched the shadows with sad eyes.

"So what happens now?" Stormy dared to ask, finally breaking the silence.

"You wait," she said, her gaze fixed on the open door. "Preferably as far away from me as possible. Your puppy will be born to a litter and you'll wait for them to be old enough to separate from their mother."

I turned to Stormy to indicate that we should leave. As we began to pad away, I turned back to Geronimo.

"Thank you," I said.

The retriever remained unmoving but acknowledged me with a long huff out of her nose. "Dogs serve different purposes for humans, Hugo. Some work with humans for their livelihoods, some help them navigate and live in the world, and others are simply meant to be companions. There's nothing wrong with being a companion. No matter what our purpose is, we come and we go more frequently than humans do. Maybe one day you'll realize that the circle of life isn't as bad as you make it out to be."

Stormy and I left, both of us anxious about the whole situation. My love for Bay had resulted in yet another puppy being sent Earthside, but this time, it was under Geronimo's discretion. Even with rules in place, it felt more unpredictable than when I sent Stormy through the dingy Earth door.

As Geronimo said, all there was left to do was wait.

— — —

7 years, 9 months postmortem

Abiding by Geronimo's timeline was torturous. The months moved by at a snail's pace. I found myself jittery in the paws any time I thought about Bay grieving alone, though it probably did not help much that I had reverted to watching her daily. Except this time, I had a shadow named Stormy with me.

The time had finally come for the puppies born two doors down from Bay to go out into the world on their own. Every day, Stormy and I gathered in the Earth Observatory to watch Bay's every move. Any time she left the house, we waited in anticipation for the magical moment when Bay would finally come face-to-face with the puppy chosen just for her. We just did not know how, when, or if that would happen.

As Bay left for her daily run alone, we watched for her to take notice of the adoptable litter two doors down. Yet again, she passed by without a second thought.

"This is killing me," Stormy complained to the television. I stared at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Right, because the car had nothing to do with that."

Stormy huffed and growled in my direction.

"You know what I mean," he said. "Geronimo is insane if she thinks this will work."

"Just be patient," I said, turning so my back faced Stormy.

We waited impatiently for Bay to finish her run and return home. The television focused solely on her, which meant our visuals beyond her immediate surroundings were limited. So when she rounded the corner, we did not see the owner of the house two doors down outside with their last remaining puppy until Bay had slowed to a stop.

"Oh my goodness, who's this little guy?" Bay's voice rose several octaves, forcing our ears to attention. "What's his name?"

Stormy and I scrambled to our paws upon the sight of Bay bent at the knees and giving attention to a puppy that looked like a miniature Geronimo.

"She doesn't have a name yet," the other human said. "It was the weirdest thing. We were sure her mother was expecting six puppies, but this girl surprised us and made it seven."

Our tails wagged in unison as Bay gave the puppy gentle head rubs and ear scratches while it struggled to contain its excitement.

"She's lucky," Bay said as the puppy leaned its head into her hand against soft scratches. "Guess she was just meant to be."

"She doesn't have a home yet," the other human said. "I'm sorry to hear about Stormy. You know, if you're interested, I can knock a few bucks off her fee for you."

Our ears perked to full attention. This was it. The moment we'd been waiting for.

Bay's mouth curled up into a forced smile and she hung her head, playing it off as focusing on the puppy.

"Thank you. Really. But I don't think I'm ready yet."

My tail fell limp as Bay slowly stood up.

"What?" Stormy wondered aloud. "No, what is she doing?"

"It was nice to see you," Bay said, her voice back to its regular octave but with a hint of sadness. "Good luck with everything."

"What is she doing?" Stormy yelled. He looked at me as if I could change her mind.

All I could do was stare at the television in shock. We had jumped through impossible, flaming, Geronimo-shaped hoops to get that puppy to Bay, and she walked away from it without a second glance.

I stared back at Stormy, just as dumbfounded as he was. Bay had a chance at happiness and she passed it up.

"There must be something wrong with her," I said. "Why wouldn't she take it with her? She needs someone with her."

"Have you really learned nothing from this whole ordeal?"

I jumped and the fur on my back stood on end at the sound of a familiar retriever's voice.

Geronimo padded out where she had been lurking behind us. "She doesn't want another dog. She still misses Stormy. You can't replace someone you love just like that. She needs time."

The fur on my back stood even taller. I'd had it with Geronimo constantly rooting against us. She made us beg for this even when she knew it would be all for nothing.

I snapped at her. "If you knew this was going to fail, why would you put us through the heartache of hoping she would get better?"

Geronimo stood as proud and tall as ever, but something was missing from her holier-than-thou attitude. Or there was something else that usually wasn't there... Like regret.

"Maybe for the first time in a long time, I had hope." Geronimo stared at us with a fallen guard for the briefest moment, then held her head high with an icy glare. "But clearly you two bozos only care about yourselves."

The retriever turned and left us alone. I glanced at Stormy, unsure of what to do next. There was nothing we could do this time around to ease Bay's burden of grief over the sudden death of yet another friend—arguably more tragic than the first time around.

I supposed all we had left was to hesitantly follow Geronimo's orders and let Bay grieve.

— — —

8 years, 4 months postmortem

Months passed. Stormy and I alternated days to check in on Bay, leading me to spend more time in the Earth Observatory in one week than I had in the past year. We found out that the puppy Bay had deemed as "lucky" was bought by a family from the countryside.

"Good people," the puppy's human had told Bay on her way out the door one morning. "She'll have plenty of space to roam and run."

Every time I left the Earth Observatory, Bay ran through my head like a rabbit. The thought of her living alone and suffering wrecked me. Sure, she had Zach and his two human children, but they were never around at night when she cried the most. I desperately wanted to help her, but knew I couldn't. I was helpless.

One day, while I paced a garden near the Earth Observatory, my paws sinking into the dark soil with every step, the distant sound of a door swooshing pulled my attention. When I looked up, I saw Stormy charging towards me, his ears flapping up and down and his ridiculous tongue hanging out of his mouth when he wasn't barking in my direction.

"Hugo!" His paws pounded against the pavement and then trampled the flowers around us.

"What happened?" I asked, panicked. If something happened to Bay while I wasn't there...

The thought of pulling a Ziggy and sending myself to Earth again crossed my mind. Would the punishment be worth it? Could I live the rest of Bay's life old and creaky like she did?

"Bay got another dog," Stormy panted.

I stared incredulously at Stormy for a brief moment to process what he was telling me. Then we bolted for the Earth Observatory.

Bay's new dog was... homely. And it certainly was not a puppy. The scruffy animal looked like it'd been through the tumble dryer a few times. Jagged teeth poked out over its top lip, wiry gray fur stuck out in every direction, and a stout, round body held unsteadily on three stumpy legs. I shuddered at the possibilities of what could have happened to the fourth leg, but that was what had earned it the name Trippy.

Somewhere along the way, Trippy had rolled over on top of his brand-new Squeaky Duck, forcing a strained squeak from the stuffing inside.

Stormy and I observed the strange dog splayed out on Bay's couch with less-than-optimistic curiosity. It had been there with its three legs raised in the air like a dead bug for the better part of an hour.

"We're sure it's alive, right?" Stormy asked.

A convenient jerk of its paw answered his question.

The dog came from a shelter and was already older than Stormy and I were when Bay took us in, though the overgrown fur framing its face made it look older than it really was.

She'd done it. She found a new companion she cared about, albeit a rough one. It was a far cry from what Stormy and I had in mind for her, but at least she was not lonely anymore. She did not need us hovering and interfering. From that moment on, I supposed the only thing left for us to do was wait.