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| Horace- 1982 - 1998 |
Yes. Yes, they do.
How do I know? When my 16 year old Pomeranian Horace died in 1998 the pain of losing "my little buddy" I felt was so unbearable the only way I felt I could survive was the knowledge knowing that I would see him again someday.
I bought Horace from a pet store in Philadelphia, PA. I was on my way to lunch and I happened to see him in the store window playing with other dogs much bigger than him. Bill and I had previously owned two Pomeranians. I had no plans to buy a puppy that afternoon but I made a big mistake by going into the pet store and asking "how much?" The store clerk said "Here, hold him." See the way Horace is looking at Bill above? That's the way he looked at me. I bought him on the spot, $300.00.
When Bill picked me up at the train station at the end of the day I had a "little surprise for him." Bill said "take him back!" But then I asked Bill to hold Horace. That did it.
Horace at home in Bill's lap.
In my whole life, all of my previous dogs both with Bill and my family always chose someone else. Horace was different, he CHOSE ME!
This is me and Horace and our first Christmas card picture, 1982. Me and my buddy Horace.
Horace went everywhere with me. I could never even thing about my car and Horace would know. He HAD TO GO!
We usually took a short ride over to my parents in my '80 Honda. Horace always in the driver's seat.
Here I am in my parent's kitchen with Horace and his daughter Babydoll. Yes, we got Horace a "wife." His daughter and his wife did not like to travel but Horace did. As you can see Babydoll is anxious to go home.
Here is my Mom holding Horace but he wants to be with me. What a good feeling to have an animal who wants to be with you and only you. Horace and I had a very special relationship.
Here's the whole family; Horace to the right, "T" in the middle and their daughter "Babydoll."
Pomeranians usually live to be twelve years old. Oddly their daughter died first. She was only eleven years old. "T" died next, she was fourteen years old. Horace lived to the grand old age of sixteen and died in September of 1998.
Horace near the end.
When he died for the first time in my life I experienced the devastating feeling of total loss. The only way I could ease my pain was with the knowledge that I would see him again someday. That's when I began to believe in Heaven.
Why didn't we get a new dog? Bill can't take the loss anymore. He said if I got a new dog he would leave me. When his dog "T" died Bill had to undergo psychiatric care for two years. I'm not allowed to even mention our dog's names nor display their pictures.
I was reminded of this kind of loss today this morning when we visited a 92 year old friend of ours. His name is Bart and he lives by himself on a nice parcel of land abutting the woods. When we have visited him before we were always greeted with a "Yap! Yap!" of his small mongrel dog. This morning there was no greeting. The first thing I asked Bart was "Where is your dog?" Bart said "He died two weeks ago. I miss him terribly."
I asked him "Are you getting a new dog?" He said "No, I'm too old and I wouldn't want to die before the dog. I wouldn't do that to a dog."
He then pointed out to a small bush at the far end of his back yard. He said "That's where I buried him."
I could see the sadness in his eyes.
Do I believe dogs go to Heaven? You're damn right I do. We will see you soon.
