All dogs go to heaven

And cats and birds and horses and gerbils and turtles and any animal that has been loved and brought joy to someone's life. Theology, schmeology, that is what I believe.

My friend Stephanie in NC sent the following email message this morning regarding their dog, Taylor, who had cancer (their other dog, Tristan, died as a result of their horrific car crash in March):

"I am very sad to say we had to put Taylor down this weekend. We had always said that we hoped that he would let us know when it was time because we didn’t want him to suffer. On Friday evening, he told us that he was done fighting the good fight. The sparkle was gone out of his big brown eyes and he seemed to have lost 10 pounds in one day. It was time. On Saturday morning, Brian and I took him to the vet for one last visit and he went peacefully with his head in Brian’s lap and me holding his two giant front paws.

I take solace in knowing that Taylor joined Tristan and Justin, his very best buddies, in the place where all great dogs go. I like to think that they are swimming in big lakes and sleeping on big feather beds and eating pot roast for every meal. And they don’t have to stay on the leash and no one gets mad for eating the cat food or leaving muddy paw prints on the carpet!

The next time you have a chance, raise a glass in honor of the great big yellow dog with a very waggy tail and his little chocolate friend. We were lucky to have had them."

And Taylor and Tristan were lucky to have had Steph, Brian, Turner and little Will to love them.

Iron Boy

Aidan received a $25 gift card to Target for his birthday and has been asking to go shopping. Yesterday was the big expedition and the guidelines were that he could buy only one toy and that I had to approve it. We spent almost an hour leisurely walking around Target, checking out all the marvelous items that a six year old boy might want to buy. We perused art supplies and kits, fishing poles, action figures, cars, a science kit (my preference) and Legos.

Much to my surprise (and chagrin), he got very excited about an Iron Man mask and "repulsor gauntlet", which shoots disks. Oh, joy. I extolled the virtues of the science kit ("Look, Aidan, you can make stink bombs!") and even talked up the Diego fishing pole, but he was set on the Iron Man set. It was within his price range, I got a solid assurance that he would never ever shoot the disks at us or Spenser, so I decided to be an indulgent mom and let him buy it.

He was so proud to hand his purchase and gift card to the cashier, and, for some reason, was very excited to receive a receipt! He carefully folded it up and put it in his pocket for safekeeping.

Since we returned home, he has playing Iron Man nearly nonstop. We set up plastic cups and take turns knocking them over with the repulsor disks. And if terrorists ever make an appearance out here in Hooterville, we'll be ready for them.