It’s the sort of rain that makes the air smell like Easter, and you want to run and run, try not to trip on your tongue, fall down, let your tongue droop onto the ground, get up, run again.
Momma, don’t be in a hurry to get here, you still have work to do on earth, and it is splendid on earth, just know that the other side is even more splendid.
I see you published your book A Dog, God, & Me. I’m glad.
Gabe’s glad too. Even though the book is fiction, Gabe loves that he is the hero in it when he find’s God’s book.
Gabe plays with me every day, hips don’t hurt, and he runs just like me. Tell sister that Aske is like a sentinel watching over everything—we dogs like a job. Play is good, being useful a necessary.
Remember when I was a puppy and too small to get on the bed? I would jump up on Gabe's back who was lying right next to you on the floor, and then I could pop right up on the bed.
He never got on the bed and was never jealous. He lived longer on earth because he could help me.
Momma, I hope people buy your book. It’s being passed around here, and a lot of fur faces have licked it—I suppose that’s the reason the cover is so shiny. The book that it's about will show up again on earth at another time, in someone else’s hands.
And since it is your conversation with God, (we call it the 'Great Spirit" here) someone else's conversation will be a different story.
People can find it now, not in the forest, but on Amazon.com.
Yep. there it is.
Love you, Peaches
