Togo Goes to Heaven, Part 1
The Way Home
It hadn’t been a particularly good night. You probably know that I had been sick for a while and had been taking a lot of medicine. Daddy and I talked a lot when I couldn’t sleep. I loved having him spend that time next to me and his words and presence helped me get some rest.
Daddy assured me that I was a good boy, that I had completed my work admirably, and that it would be okay if I was ready to go to heaven, my final home. I had that conversation several times over the last eight months with my family members. But at those times, it wasn’t time. This time I agreed.
Momma and Daddy were with me later that morning when I finally let go. I can still hear their voices, feel their pats, and see their faces. I did my best to let them know how much I loved them. Then, I just went to sleep and slept better than I had in a long time.1
When I woke up, I was delighted to find myself outdoors in a grassy meadow filled with bluebonnets. I have to admit that I was a little scared and totally uncertain of what I was supposed to do next. So I stood up. In so doing, I realized how really great I felt. And, I’m not ashamed to tell you that I had a tremendous case of the “zoomies.” I ran as fast as I could and circled that meadow again and again.
I finally stopped when I noticed another dog standing at the edge of the grass, patiently watching me. Strangely familiar, this one. I sauntered over and introduced myself.
“Hi, I’m Togo!”
“I know,” the tall white-haired stranger replied. “I’m Zoe. I was sent to give you directions.”
Hearing her say her name, it all clicked. This was Zoe who my Momma and Daddy affectionately called “Foster Dog.” She had spent her last three years living with them. And I had inherited her backyard and her dog igloo.
“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!” I exclaimed.
“And I’ve been watching you and love the way you have taken care of Momma and Daddy since I came to heaven,” she said.
The two of us talked for hours and teared up some about leaving Momma and Daddy, Jeremy, Bella, Justin, Erin, and Henry. And we laughed a lot about how Daddy thought he was in charge of things. It was a good time.
It was then that I noticed that it didn’t seem like any time had passed. Zoe explained that time has no meaning in heaven.
“So, I’m in heaven now?” I asked.
“Technically, you’re right outside,” she answered. “But really, it’s all heaven for animals. You’re free to come to this landing point as much as you want. It’s easier to see the world from here and check on Momma and Daddy. I come here all the time.
”Do you have any questions?” she continued.
“Come to think of it, yes,” I said. “I’ve heard stories about a Rainbow Bridge and how pets must cross it. I haven’t seen it yet. Is that a bad sign?”
“Actually, no,” she said. “The Rainbow Bridge is a catch-all term for your official entryway into heaven. But not every dog sees an actual rainbow bridge. That’s because God has crafted a unique entryway for each one of us.”
I thought about it for a minute. “Where can I find mine?”
Zoe wagged her tail slightly. “That’s why I’m here — to point you the way.”
And with that she bounded across to the edge of the meadow where a forest began. I caught up with her when she stopped next to a path that led into the trees.
“This is it, your entryway,” she said. “You can begin when you’re ready.”
”Are you coming with me?” I felt some fear building inside me.
”No,” Zoe said. “This is your version of the “Rainbow Bridge.” I have my own not far from here. Don’t worry, the way God built yours, you will never be lost and there will be a lot of great sights and smells along the way. And you’ll be in Heaven before you know it.”
She walked closer, booped my nose with hers, and called over her shoulder as she galloped away, “See you there!”
I stood for a minute and peered down the path. My first steps transported me to a place that seemed both new and familiar at the same time.
The trail was inviting. There was even some mud to tromp through. The leaves on the trees soon turned to beautiful colors and dropped all around me. The wind blew them into giant piles and I treated myself to a nap in the biggest of them. I woke to the smell of a change in weather and was ecstatic when heavy white flakes fell and I was leg deep in fluffy snow! I played for what seemed like hours.
The path invited me to move forward. Then suddenly ended in a gigantic open space. Just a few feet ahead, I saw a brilliantly lit city surrounded by giant walls made of gold and jasper and other gems. Off to the right there was a gate. Thousands of humans were standing quietly and yet joyfully in line. I started to drift that way to see if I knew any of them when I heard Zoe bark just to my left.
“This way,” she called. I followed her to a huge doggy door in the side of the wall.
”We have an express entrance,” she explained. “Your paperwork has already been done.”
I stepped through right after her.
Immediately, I was in the middle of a wonderful play area with pets of every kind. I was immediately greeted by a little dog who seemed to be floating on air.
“Welcome to heaven,” she said. “I’m Saint Joy. God has graciously blessed me to be the official greeter of all dogs arriving here. If you need anything, let me know. However, God made heaven so that any need is met before you know you need it. Any thing I can help you with right now?”
“I have one question,” and I paused. “When will I get to meet God?”
“Don’t worry, Saint Togo,” she smiled. “He’ll be by soon.”2
I am a friend of Steve Smith. Saw this through him. Had two German Shepherds for 14 years each. I know where they are now (along with our half Rhodesian ridgeback/half whippet of 16 years). I lost my wife of forty years a month ago. Your writing is beautiful. Thank you. I know Steve will send me part two.
This is so beautiful I cried. This is why I work in Hospice care.