the world's deadliest beast (pound for pound) has died

There is something especially sad about the passing of a family dog. At least for me, when a close relative or friend passes, the sting is tempered somewhat by a set of beliefs defining how I think of death. Centuries of religious teachings however, don't hold our hands when our dog dies. This is part of the reason the death of my family's dog Nick has been so hard. Humankind has devoted much time and effort to defining where a person goes after death, but has done an inadequate job investigating the eternal destiny of our pets, leaving us to fill in the blanks. To make matters worse, in Nick's case, it's not at all clear whether he'd even qualify for heaven. If held to exacting standards Nick might fall short. For one thing, Nick refused to learn any basic commands. He peed on my mom's carpet multiple times resulting in thousands of dollars of repair costs and he was constantly running away. And while he was courageous at times, he wasn't consistent. My friend Andy for example, affectionately termed Nick "pound for pound the world's deadliest animal" (after he tried to kill both a baby deer and a porcupine), but he was deathly afraid of lightening and fireworks; in fact, any loud bang would result in Nick cowering behind the bathroom toilet, a spot he would leave only for enough time to go pee on my mom's carpet. He also refused to swim. The foregoing notwithstanding, I am sure Nick is in heaven now, he has to be--because a heaven that excludes the best damn dog of all time, is no heaven at all.

Thanks Nick, for 18 great years. Enjoy it up there and try not to pee on the carpet.

Love,

Jesse