Angel Grace

My wristwatch just came loose, which made me think of Angel Grace, my son's puppy, who cut her teeth on it when we visited Minnesota late last summer. Foolishly, I had taken the watch off and laid it on the coffee table. A few minutes later, Angel was sporting gold grills.

I never did have the dent repaired, even though it meant the watch ends up hanging around my arm like a bracelet every now and then. It seems fitting to leave it that way because Angel died just a few weeks ago.

She had bone cancer, and despite the meds and the special food and the loving care, it was a mercy when she was put down.

I'm telling you about Angel on Easter because I have a new theory about what happens after death: given that we're all mixed bags, maybe only what is good in us ascends and the rest sinks.

Thus, in her totality, Angel Grace is resting in the arms of God.