Can I ask you a question?

Hey, buddy. I’ve been thinking and I want to ask you something.

Will you speak at my funeral?

I know, it’s a lot to ask because 1. you’re a dog and you can’t speak and 2. you’re dead. But hear me out.

If we could have our dogs eulogize us, my lord wouldn’t it be great? They would only know how to say truly amazing things. And not just like the way a good friend might do it. It wouldn’t be false, forced, or one of those things that were difficult to put together because all the negative memories were intruding into the mental flow. No one would lean over and whisper to their neighbor during the choked up speech and say, “Yeah, that’s nice and all, but she has to say that. We all know that really Annie was a dickhead.”

It would be pure, loving and full of big, wide smiles. The kind that goes from ear to ear, tongue out panting, butt wagging excitement over your life.

I was in a cemetery in Edinburgh, Scotland and there was a grave for a dog there. The dog’s owner died and for the next 14 years, the dog snuck into the cemetery to sleep on his beloved master’s grave. Then one day the dog himself died and was buried in the same cemetery. If that’s not a beautiful eulogy, I don’t know what is.

Although, my love, if you had outlived me I would be very sadly looking down (or up) from the beyond if you waited by my grave for years. Go run on the beach! Destroy a stuffed toy! But I guess as a dog, I would be your sole purpose for living so you would actually really love hanging out by my grave. I don’t think it’s the same for humans.

So, I ask again: will you speak at my funeral? I’d really appreciate it. I think you’d say good things about me. You’d be able to express how wonderful I was. How I snuggled you. How I gave you love without question or expectation. How I was open, caring, and fed you good food. How I held you when you were ill and paid money to have your teeth cleaned. Or — you’d just get the zoomies.

The thing is, giving that kind of love in the moment is never given with the expectation of anything back, so maybe it’s unfair to ask you to eulogize me, but if I had to choose anyone to talk about my life, I’d choose your weird fuzzy face.