As someone well versed in religion, philosophy and the intricate practices of convertible arbitrage, I have often been asked for my thoughts and opinions on life after death. Obviously, there is good reason for me to write for I have first hand experience in the matter. It is important to note that life after death takes many forms. For President Nixon, my political and gambling mentor, there was life after political death. For others life may have taken place after the death of a relationship or upon the acceptance of religious faith. Yet, in my case, life after death (Heaven - if you will) will look something like this....
It is early evening in late May. The air is beginning to cool, yet the soft grass I lay upon retains the warmth of the afternoon sun. The few clouds that dot the sky are starting to catch the rich glow of the distant setting sun. I am tired, but not sleepy. I am thirsty and hungry but seek no refreshment. As I stare contentedly into this afternoon sky, I am assaulted by a burst of wet warmth in the form a large tongue and my nostrils are filled with a familiar smell. And there, as my field of vision changes, a familiar face comes into view. It is Ting, my beloved Golden Retriever.
His gentle countenance and imploring eyes beckon me to rise; and, as I do, I sense that he is not alone.
For now, it is early afternoon. I am on the great lawn at Lakeland Farm and the green grass is like a carpet beneath my bare feet. I see my parents home, but have no desire to go inside. I somehow know they are there, and I know they are watching me. I can sense Kathy and the boys, but I do not see or hear them.
With each passing moment, I come to realize that Ting and I are sharing this great, green expanse. We are soon joined by all the other dogs I have known and loved. There are tennis and lacrosse balls. There are dishes of cool water and patches shade beneath the trees.
They come into sight now, happy and breathless in anticipation of the joyous afternoon ahead.
There is Pendragon, the neighbor’s Gordon Setter, who would wait for me to return from Prep School. There is our Bull Mastiff, Bwana, at ease in his knowledge that his great size belies his gentle nature. They are all with me now, running and playing and fetching the balls that I throw. They bring them back to drop at my feet or keep them in their mouthes in the hope that I will come and give chase. Sam, an older female Black Lab comes into view. Just as in my childhood, she arrives with her tin pie plate in her teeth, secure in the knowledge that she will be fed and cared for. And, as I look down, I see my old lacrosse stick. It’s an STX with a weathered head and a basket which holds a white ball pocked with teeth marks. I pick it up feeling its light shape in my hand and the weight of the ball, and then I see Paget.
Paget was my Yellow Labrador Retriever who came into my life during college and whose soul became on with mine. We play again now, just as we did all those many years ago. Each throw of the ball going a little longer than the last. His breath becoming more labored with each retrieve. Yet now, just as when I was a young man and he was a pup, we do not stop. His greatest pleasure comes from the simplest of things and I realize that mine does to.
As my arms get weary, Paget lets me know that he is finished and lies down under the birch tree. I sit down in the middle of the great green lawn amongst these dogs and inhale the aroma of their scent mixed with Mother’s flowers and Lilac trees.
It is then, that Ting comes back into view. My beautiful, gentle dog sits beside me and nudges my arm over his head so that I am compelled to rub him behind his ear. I draw a deep breath and lie back. Now I realize that I am in Heaven. Like soldiers from distant times and battles, I know that will soon rise. I am on my own Elysian Field now and soon I will be joined by the virtuous, not in battle, but in play.
The air is beginning to cool, yet the soft grass I am laying on retains the warmth of the afternoon sun. The few clouds that dot the sky are starting to catch the rich glow of a distant setting sun. I am tired, but not sleepy. I am thirsty and hungry but seek no refreshment. As I stare contentedly into this afternoon sky, I am assaulted by a burst of wet warmth in the form a large tongue and my nostrils are filled with a familiar smell. And there, as my field of vision changes, a familiar face comes into view. It is Ting, my beloved Golden Retriever.
It has been said that Heaven (or Hell) is what you make of it. I do not know. What I can say with certainty is if you treat others as you wish to be treated, if share what you have, if you give of yourself then you too will find your own Heaven. It may be in this life or what comes after it. No matter what, I have my own ideas and hope that your are as nice as mine.
Quo fata ferunt!
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