|I promised friends and two of my favorite cousins that I would be coming back as a Golden Retriever. A few months after I'm beamed up, “…the first Golden that sniffs their crotch or lifts his leg on your shoe, will be me. Count on it.” I've always liked the Golden Retriever. They are smart, gentle, and everyone likes them. Hence, my choice for a vessel to exist in after death.
The day I died, everything went quiet and black for a few months, then I found myself opening my eyes one day and I was nestled in a big basket next to an iron stove in someone’s living room. My stomach was full, I felt strong and rested. Big hands picked me up and I found myself staring into the face of an older, whiskered fellow with kind, brown eyes. He tucked me in the hollow of his arm near his chest, and I could hear his heartbeat and his breathing. A woman appeared, and then a couple of big flashes from her camera. Her voice was familiar. It was my cousin Joan. Somehow, I was in her home, held in the arms of her boyfriend or husband, and she was clicking away with her camera. Matthew was the man’s name. He smelled like the woods, and had a deep and soothing voice. Joanie couldn’t stop smiling, and I swear I could see tears in her eyes. She still wore the big piece of jade I had given her years earlier.
Joan gave me little bite of warm bread that she was eating. It felt good in my mouth, and the butter stuck to the little hairs on my muzzle.
My hope to return as a Golden Retriever came true. I would live another thirteen or fourteen years as beloved member of Joan’s family, and then I would be happy to go to sleep and stay asleep, forever.