Beyond This Door

June 18, 2019.Reading time 4 minutes.

“There is a door that leads to beauty and light wrapped in great mystery,” the prophet said as she stood in front of the yellow door. “Follow me. I can take you there.”

A small crowd gathered around the soothsayer, listening intently to her words.

“Beyond this door there is freedom,” she promised. “There are worlds yet unclaimed.”

“Have you been there?” a doubter from the crowd asked.

“Yes. I have seen what lies beyond and it is sweet. Together we can see this place. Together we can leave this mundane existence and experience a better life.”

This may sound like the beginnings of a freakshow you’d see on Netflix or something you’d witness any night in Time’s Square, but it actually happened in my basement. As we built out the large room that holds my pool table and JB’s dance floor, I got a set of bi-fold doors for our storage room which allowed me to leave the opening five feet wide. Lately, this opening has been the source of family controversy.

I always know when JB has been down there because she leaves the fan on. A few weeks ago, I went downstairs and found the fan blade turning as well as one of the storage room doors open.

“JB, you left the storage room door open!” I hollered.

“I didn’t go in the storage room,” she replied.

Round and round the blame game went and as usually happens, no one emerged victorious. The blame game has no winners besides anger, spite, and sometimes bitterness.It’s really a game left to professionals – amateurs only wound leave marks.

A few days later my lovely wife left the door open and I chided the whole family for their negligence.

“The cats could get lost or hurt in there,” I reminded them. “The walls aren’t finished so they could get to the water heater or into my workshop and who knows what could happen!”

The next time we found it open I was the only potential culprit and innocent though I was, I heard a great deal of murmuring. Rightfully so…

The mystery grew until we postulated that our curious cat had figured out that she could put her paw under the bi-fold door and pull it open. I scoffed until one day I found her sitting contentedly on my workbench with sawdust stuck in her whiskers.

I held the doorknobs together with a rubber band, but the little criminal beat that one out too. She could pull it enough to get in, but the doors closed behind her and she couldn’t get out.

Now we have a child-lock on the doors. We often find her perched staring at the doors and more than a few times, her curious feline minions are watching. Sometimes we hear banging as she tries to bulldoze her way into the promised land, but she hasn’t figured out the system yet. The lock seems to be working, but after the past few weeks, I’m not betting against the prophet.

Do All Dogs Go to Heaven?

November 7, 2018.Reading time 5 minutes.

I wonder about things like that. It’s nice to think of the good dogs in our life walking beside us in great beyond. What about the bad ones? Did they never get a chance here but deserve a break in the afterlife?

I made a big mistake fourteen years ago and would like for some young simpleton to profit from my stupidity. Here is my advice: if you lose a beloved old dog, don’t immediately take four sad children and your big-hearted wife near a pet store that frequently holds adoptions. You will end up with a puppy, I assure you. We did. She was a cute little black thing but she was a handful.

Someone found her playing in the road when she was five weeks old, too young to be weaned. But with no mother dog in sight, the rescue took her in and then we did.

I never really bonded with her. With work and a big family, maybe I had too much going on in my life, I don’t know. She bonded with the girls though… and she ate quite a few of their toys. We took her to obedience classes. She failed. Nothing stuck. She still ate toys. She wouldn’t mind.

But she was always sweet to the girls and never, ever growled or snapped at them or their friends. Besides the typical puppy stuff, we discovered that she was obsessed with the game of fetch. That dog would knock over anything and everything in pursuit of a tennis ball. In fact, we had to ban them from the house because she crashed into children over a ball more than once. When she was a puppy, that wasn’t a big deal. When she grew to a 90-pound menace, running over kids became a problem.

Her back legs began to wear down early in her life. She struggled mightily when it got cold. Over the past year, a knot began swelling at her shoulder. The vet said it was bursitis, but things began to turn. She was getting old, slowing down and we knew the time was coming to make a decision – the worst decision a pet-owner has to make. When she stopped eating, it became obvious. A Saturday appointment was made.

We were in the den Friday and she began methodically licking her shoulder. Like I had for the past year, I told her to quit. But then it dawned on me – what does it matter now? She has less than 24 hours left.

Lick away, Misty.

That night, the girls all spent time with her. When they were little and we had company, Jenna and Kylie would forfeit their rooms for the guests and sleep on the floor with the dogs. They thought that was really cool – to sleep with the dogs. So Jenna decided to spend the night on the floor with her.

It dawned on me that Kylie would take the next shift.

We all piled in the little room at the animal hospital and saw her peacefully away.

I have a vivid picture of Kylie waiting with a tennis ball… smiling and calling her name. The first of her family to come home to her.

“Come here, Misty. Come home… good girl.”

Do all dogs go to heaven?

I don’t know. It’s a theological question too lofty for me. She wasn’t a great dog. I wasn’t a great owner, either. But she was loved and she loved my girls. She did her job here and had a good run – 14 years for a dog found playing in the road.

I think of the two of them running and jumping on perfect legs – bound by earthly maladies no more – and I find that I really hope dogs make it.

Have a good fetch, Misty. Take care of Kylie until we come home.