6 months postmortem

To my surprise, Stormy wasn't half-bad for a dog who had yet to discover that his tail was not prey to be hunted.

From what I could tell, Stormy and Bay settled in well together. After Bay's search for who she thought was Stormy's human came up short, she kept him, exactly as I had planned.

Bay started running again. Stormy kept his pace, but his attention span was as long as the nub of a chewed-up bone. Bay tried the same tactics she used when training me to be on a leash, but the puppy seemed impervious to her efforts.

In the first few months after sending Stormy to Earth, I checked in at the Earth Observatory at least once a day, just to make sure things hadn't gone haywire. I never stayed long, but I still made an effort to at least stop in. Otherwise, I immersed myself in the sprawling fields, wooded areas, and chasing tennis balls, just as the other dogs had. I was doing exactly what I never thought I would do.

Oddly enough, I felt somewhat proud of the dog Stormy was turning into. From my brief and infrequent visits, he was mostly well-behaved. He was perhaps more rambunctious and impulsive than anticipated, but his spurts of energy were something he could grow into.

With the high afternoon sun warming my fur in all the right places, I strolled along a path in search of something new to smell, my nose to the ground. I caught a whiff of something wafting on the breeze, and then my fur stood on end. I recognized that smell.

I turned every which way in search of the source of the scent. I hoped I was wrong, but when my eyes fell on the familiar golden coat, I knew.

Geronimo was across the field, herding a group of puppies along with her and urging them to keep up.

I backed up, but there was nowhere to hide. I had spotted Geronimo since sending Stormy to Earth, but we had yet to speak to each other. I figured I had not earned that right yet. She would never forgive me, and I had come to terms with that. If I thought about it, I couldn't really blame her. I betrayed her trust and loyalty. There was no coming back from that.

As she got closer, Geronimo lifted her nose in the air. I froze and tried to hide in plain sight, but her gaze still fell on me.

Even from a distance, I could tell she wanted to murder me. But since she was with the newest Special Assignments puppies, she held back. Instead, she turned her tail to me and ushered the young ones in the opposite direction.

I let out a sigh of relief and continued on my way. Seeing Geronimo reminded me of when she nearly ripped my ears off for stealing her recruit. Then my mind wandered to Bay. I had yet to check on her since the day before...

I hightailed it towards the Earth Observatory, but as I approached the building, I stopped in my tracks.

Ziggy was slowly padding across the paved quad, away from the buildings and towards the gated entrance. Her head bobbed with every movement of her paws as if it were a full-body effort to take one step.

Panic gripped me. What if she'd become fed up with living her afterlife old and crippled? Her first punishment was harsh enough; what could a second punishment look like? I couldn't let her carry on with whatever it was that she was set out to do.

I raced towards her and blocked her path.

"What are you doing?" I asked. I panted, though not from the heat.

She looked at me. Her overgrown schnauzer eyebrows seemed perkier than usual and her black eyes shined. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was grinning.

"She's here."

I skittered out of Ziggy's path and crouched to the ground. Did she mean Geronimo? Was the retriever finally out for my blood? Could I even bleed in Dog Heaven?

Despite my obvious cowardice, Ziggy continued forward. I quickly checked my surroundings for a nearby vengeful retriever then raced after Ziggy again.

"Hugo," she started, keeping her eyes trained ahead, "you may have died old, but there's still a lot left for you to learn."

"What do you mean?" I asked, moving alongside her at a snail's pace. She ignored my question.

For the first time since I had met her, the old dog's gravelly voice sounded young and hopeful. "Coretta is here."

Ziggy padded by without bothering to stop. She was on a mission to the front gate and there was no stopping her.

I followed after her, just to make sure she wouldn't do anything drastic. We ventured through the chainlink gate.

The endless expanse opened up before us and Ziggy continued as if she'd been there before. She had been there before. She knew exactly what she was doing and where she was going. Her paws carried her towards where the Human Heaven door stood in waiting, pridefully, as if flaunting the fact that it concealed a secret on the other side that dogs could be punished for using.

As we approached the white door, a blurry figure emerged from the thin fog: Ziggy's human.

Ziggy's tail wagged with a fervor I had never seen from her before. With every step closer to her human, her legs seemed to move more freely and quickly until I had to sprint to keep up with her.

Youthful barks carried across the expanse as Ziggy finally reached Coretta. I had never seen the old woman's eyes open, but they were brimming with life and joy. She knelt to meet Ziggy, who had already rolled onto her back to expose her belly.

"Zig, old girl," the woman greeted in a similar gravelly voice to her dog's. Ziggy's tongue slipped out of the side of her open mouth as Coretta stroked her chest and belly.

I watched from a distance, careful not to disrupt the moment Ziggy had waited so long for. The reunion was like watching a puppy react to their human coming home after a long day. It appeared that Ziggy's body no longer ached.

After the belly rubs ceased, Ziggy sprang to her feet with ease. She and her owner turned towards the door in sync, as if their time apart had been seconds, rather than years.

Coretta placed a hand, once wrinkled by time but now smoothed by death, on the doorknob and twisted. The door cracked open to a warm, golden continuation of the expanse around us. Except when she stepped through with Ziggy glued to her heels, they did not emerge to the other side. Ziggy glanced up at her human as she pranced beside her. The door closed behind them with a gentle click.

Ziggy was gone. Happy. Free.

My mind reeled as I processed Ziggy's new absence. It was not like she was not any more dead than she already was. In fact, she was in a better place—literally. She was finally rewarded with a rejuvenated body and reunited with her human, who was also no longer in pain.

It was not like we were ever friends. We saw each other daily, but aside from when I sent Stormy Earthside, we rarely spoke to each other. Yet, for some reason, I missed her.

My tail swished in thought. It was strange, missing someone who was happier now that they were gone. I watched the door for a while longer, just in case Ziggy walked back through, even though I knew that would not happen. She was with Coretta in Human Heaven where she belonged.

When I finally tore my gaze away, I turned and padded back towards the front gate. The entrance to Dog Heaven somehow seemed wider and longer without Ziggy. The wire gate opened upon my arrival. I kept my head down as I wandered, hoping I would know what would make me feel better when I saw it.

My aimless wandering was cut short when I bumped into a roadblock made of golden fur and burning anger.

"What were you doing out there?" Geronimo's voice dripped with rage and skepticism.

My tail tucked between my legs and I slunk backwards. "Nothing. Well, something, but it was nothing."

"Hugo, I swear, if you were out there to do the exact thing I warned you about—"

"Ziggy. I was there with Ziggy. Her human came for her."

Geronimo straightened and her eyes softened as they stared past my head towards the entrance. "Good for her."

My ears perked at Geronimo's change in temperament. If she could be happy for Ziggy, then maybe she had it in herself to forgive my transgressions.

Unfortunately, Geronimo quickly rebuilt her fallen guard and returned to the cold gaze she'd been shooting at me for the past several months. But even as her black eyes burned with fiery anger towards me, her tail swished, giving away that she may not have been as filled with rage as she let on.

I did not want her to know that I was catching onto her false show of force, so I stepped back. Even though I knew she cared deep down, it was better to let her think she still frightened me.

Without another word, Geronimo huffed through her nose and walked in the opposite direction, her head and tail held high in superior defiance.

The Earth Observatory was not far, so I decided it was time to pay Bay and Stormy a visit. I stopped at the doorway for a bone, then went inside to settle in front of the television once occupied by an old schnauzer.

The screen blinked on to show Bay and Stormy jogging through a park. Though it looked less like a run and more like a game of tug-of-war with how much Stormy pulled on his leash every which way.

I let out a groan. We had gone over leash etiquette a thousand times, but it was something the puppy never caught onto.

Stormy left no blade of grass un-sniffed and no lamp post or park bench was safe from his territorial mark. He panted as he pulled at the leash. The harness dug into his fur, causing it to stick out every which way, but he didn't seem to notice.

Any time Stormy pulled the leash taut, Bay gave it a gentle yank to bring him back. His ears perked to attention when he remembered to keep up, but a stray scent wafted past his wandering nose and his regular antics resumed.

As they continued their pattern of run-pull-run-pull, a squirrel darted in front of Bay. The fur on my back stood on end. I had not seen one of those dreaded beasts on the television in months. I'd almost forgotten they existed.

Stormy knew exactly how to handle the situation. He barked a warning and sent it skittering up a nearby tree. Bay's arm yanked in Stormy's direction as he established dominant ground over the rodent, but that was an instance I was willing to forgive. The kid could at least do something right.

Overall, Bay seemed happy, despite Stormy's reactivity and resistance to training. He made her laugh more often than not and he guarded her from everything she needed protecting from. He had become everything Bay needed him to be.

Sitting in Ziggy's spot while watching Bay almost felt wrong. While I felt for the old schnauzer, I did not want to become like her. She had spent years watching her human lay in a bed and do nothing, waiting for her to arrive so she could carry on with the rest of eternity. She was miserable in a place that was supposed to relieve her.

I wanted to do right by Ziggy and myself, to live the afterlife we had yet to have because we were too busy watching our humans. There was nothing left for me to do. Bay was happy thanks to Stormy. I just had to find a way to make myself happy, too.