I’d written a fun little travelogue about a trail ride on Honey Badger, the little dual sport motorcycle I bought this spring. I was about to hit “post” when I felt a presence. It was if the heavens joined with the mortal plane and a great presence had come to me. There was the smell of dog, and, faintly in the background, the sound of angels. I don’t give a shit about angels, but I sure miss my dog. A deep, reassuring voice drifted to me from the aether.
“You are being a bad human.” It was neither loud nor cruel; not a statement of anger, one of correction. My dog.
“Is that you? You’ve been gone five months.” I counted on my fingers. Suddenly I felt hollow. Some losses you shake off and some you don’t.
“Don’t be sad. I’m in heaven.” My dog was there, at least in my imagination. Gifted, for the purpose of a blog post, with the faculty of speech.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s nice. The food is good. Lotta’ trees. But that’s not why I’m here. You’ve been sloppy with OPSEC.”
I hung my head in shame. My dog was always more noble and trustworthy than me. It’s entire life it never failed for even a second to monitor the security of our home. This fire breathing defense of family was paired with a generous and peaceful heart. I can’t live up to that. Who can?
“It was supposed to be a joke.” The voice coaxed gently. “You don’t really need a dog as an editor.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No buts. You mean well but you’re a human. You think too much. You talk too much. Manage OPSEC, as I always told you.”
“I’m just trying to give people free ice cream.” I countered lamely.
“So, write more squirrels.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. Finally, I told the truth. “2020; it’s such a shitshow. I just can’t…” I trailed off.
“Relax. When the time is right, it will happen. In the meantime, we’re all watching you wander around the forest. Well done.” I beamed, just as my dog always did when I gave it a compliment. Then it dawned on me… “I have an audience in heaven?”
“Yes. I’m not sure of the details, but we know what is happening. I’m glad you’re out and about. Humans need walks as much as dogs.”
“So, about the blog… it’s good to tell stories, ideally happy ones.”
“You mean well but people are crazy. They set fire to an elk statue. They complain about things that happened two hundred years ago to someone they never met. Who carries a grudge for someone else’s misery? Who hates elk?”
“I don’t know.” How does one respond to a world where people ruin their own minds; where they riot as a hobby?
“Here boy!” It was a distant voice; melodic…
“Is that?” I froze. Was I about to be in the presence of God?
“Time for a walk.” My dog turned and trotted off. I could not follow; a mere mortal, stuck at the keyboard without a dog. I was going to need a drink after this. As it left, my dog (or rather heaven’s dog) let out a bark… not the old frail sounds of the last days but the great and powerful and somehow happy battle cry of its youth. It was the kind of sound that would make a dragon shiver or peel the paint off an impertinent UPS truck. I always loved that bark. “Maintain OPSEC.” It said. And then the moment passed.
Two shots of bourbon later, I completely rewrote my story.