Part 4. Beyond the grave.
Excerpt from “Robert. My life. By me.” Scheduled for publication 01.10.2013.
Part 4 of 4: Coming home. (Parts 1, 2, and 3 in Related Stories)
The smart ones amongst you will have realised that you have been reading the memoirs of a deceased dog. See Related Stories below if this doesn't make any sense to you. You may also have come across my blog that reveals that I’m somehow up-to-date on today’s events in your world. If so you will be wondering, how on earth....?
Well, let me explain. Forget the Earth bit. In fact, I’m in Dog Heaven. At that moment when I passed over, as it were, it went like this. I was being cradled in the arms of Steve on that London riverside terrace.The view before me began to recede. I still find the transition to that heaven where I now find myself is difficult to describe. One view slowly replaced another. I could best describe the new view as a Teletubbies’ landscape as painted by Rene Magritte. Well I said it wasn’t easy! Work it out for yourselves. More interestingly, wherever I looked, a little window hung in the equivalent of the sky.
If I peered into it, the familiar heart-rendingly beautiful image of our Planet Earth came into view. If I selected a destination in my head, then the location zoomed into the foreground. In moments I could track down anyone, anywhere on the planet. I guess this might well make sense to you if I cite Google Earth as the most comparable earthbound facility.
So now you know. Here I am, happy in Dog Heaven, still keeping an eye on Steve, still observing the compelling triumphs and heartbreaking foibles of humankind. It’s a lovely place to be. In fact, but for the lack of smells, the complete absence of any scent to make my heart beat faster, this would truly be the perfect spot.
I told Annie, my psychic companion, as much. She sympathised. She’s into smells too, though hers seem to be more the exotic fragrances of the addicted aromatherapist. I’m not criticising, though. Each to their own, I guess. Annie on all fours sniffing her way through a cornfield, chasing down a scent ripe with the richness of decay, somehow does not scan.
For me however, and every other Westie in the world, that’s as close to heaven as it ever gets. Yes, you can take the dog out of this earth. But you’ll never take the earth out of the dog.
Parts 1, 2 and 3 in Related Stories below.
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