Free Dancing Dogs by Jon Katz Page B

holding an odd-looking wand, and she smelled like liver.
    “I’m the angel Audrey. I’ve come to take you to meet Luther, as Father Matthews had prayed for.”
    Minnie brightened. “Father Matthews? Is he up here?”
    Audrey shook her head. “Not yet. But we text.”
    “But Luther is here?”
    “Yes, absolutely,” said the angel, wiping her glasses on the edge of her dress. “But the animals have their own heaven, and it’s different. The animals can’t come here, but you can visit them there. If things work out, sometimes people can readopt their dogs. Or the dogs can readopt their people. It’s a choice for both.”
    Minnie jumped to her feet—it didn’t hurt at all to do that here; her knees were young again, bless them. She turned to Jacob, who was smiling, and said she would be back. She felt a flash of the old guilt, but that never lasted up here. She was free to come and go as she pleased. Jacob didn’t ask to come, and Minnie didn’t invite him.
    “I’ve been assigned to the dog part of Heaven forever,” Audrey said. “I’ve never lived on Earth myself, and I love dogs, so it’s a good fit for me.”
    Audrey held out her hand, and Minnie took it and closed her eyes as the two of them took off into the blue sky and sailed through the air and into the clouds. Minnie looked down on a vast, beautiful terrain. There were flat plains, woods, and on all sides rolling hills pockmarked with countless caves. Streams crisscrossed the valley. There were rows of thick brush with holes dug around the roots, and clusters of old sheds, shacks, and barns.
    There were no streets, houses, or big roads, just a lot of dirt paths.
    “It’s different,” Audrey said. “That’s why it has to be separate.”
    They landed on a large green field, and the smell was so strong that Minnie held her breath for a second. “Dog poo,” she said.
    “There are no cleanup laws up here,” Audrey said. “The dogs can go wherever they want. It can take some adjustment for humans.”
    And Minnie could see that it was true, what Audrey said. All kinds of dogs, mutts of every size and description, Rottweilers, pit bulls, Afghans, Newfoundlands, Labs, shepherds, poodles, shar-peis, English bulldogs, beagles, hounds, and lapdogs wandered in and out of the caves and woods that lined the fields and bushes. There were tall and thin dogs, brown and white and black dogs, purebreds and mongrels, scary dogs and tiny loud ones. Some were dozing, others were running, growling, eating, barking, playing, or peeing or pooping wherever they pleased.
    Minnie heard a familiar barking and squealing, and she turned to see Luther running up to her, wagging his tail. He shook, licked her hand, looked into her eyes. Her own eyes filled with tears as she sat down on the ground next to him.Audrey beamed. Minnie put her arms around Luther’s ugly little head and kissed him on the nose.
    He was clearly pleased to see her. But she also thought that he was somewhat restrained, not as demonstrative as she remembered him. Or as she expected him to be.
    “Luther, Luther, my boy, my love!” she cried out, and kept on hugging her dog. Luther wagged his tail, and then backed up a bit. He came forward and sniffed her hand, licked it, then he moved away and out toward a path that led out of the field.
    “He wants to take you for a walk. He’s excited to see you and wants to show you off to the other dogs. Just follow the path.”
    Minnie was a bit disconcerted. Something about Luther was definitely different. Audrey sensed this.
    “He’s been waiting for you, but he doesn’t have to perform for you now. The obedience and control thing is different. You know, the way dogs down there get you to do things for them. He doesn’t have to do that up here, he can do what he wants. He can just love you in the dog way.”
    Audrey said she would be waiting when Minnie was done visiting and ready to go back to People Heaven. Minnie turned to follow Luther toward the