It has always set badly with me that dogs and cats do not get to go to heaven. You would think that St Peter would have a pet there sitting beside him, watching the masses come and go through the gate. Wonder if you showed up late at night and everyone was asleep? A good dog would let them know someone was coming. Plus nothing would make the newly departed feel better than seeing such truly good old friends waiting for their arrival. I mean, if I was to feel at home, or a sense of relief that I had finally made it to my reward, wouldn’t an old pet of mine like Ricky or Katmandu or Oedipus be standing there by the gate, waiting? I know for sure seeing one of these family pets suddenly aware I was walking down the lane would mean the world to me. That dog or even that surly cat sitting up; ears perked and head and tail shaking slowly back and forth emitting a slow bark or respective purr that I knew was all theirs would be such a relief to the sense of loss or loneliness that I may be feeling. Yet according to most churches, and at least mine that I know of, dogs and cats don’t go to heaven. They have no soul. I suspect Priests who do bad things to little boys do however go to heaven once forgiven, but dogs and cats don’t. Well maybe not Sam’s dog. That dog was full of the devil. It never liked me and even now some forty years later I can still feel the terror I felt as a kid, turning to walk away from that growling dog, knowing full well he was going to bite me. And he did.