Bugsy, my dog, was 20 years old. He’d been ill, and I’d finally had to make the appointment to put him to sleep.
“Don’t you want any dinner?” I asked him the night before. He couldn’t manage to eat a bite. I went to put his dish away, and when I turned back around I saw a brilliant white glow surrounding Bugsy. Angels are with him already.
In bed, I remembered the fun we had when Bugsy was young—chasing chipmunks, rolling in the grass. He’ll get to do all that in heaven. The next morning I heard the skittering of claws on the floor. “Woof, woof.” I went into the kitchen to find Bugsy pawing at the porch door to be let out like a young pup.
We romped around outside together until Bugsy became the sick, old dog he’d been for too long. The angelic glow must have given him temporary strength. I drove him to the vet that afternoon. I had no doubt he was romping around in heaven.
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