Involved together in a sudden, tragic, and fatal accident, Ralph and Frodo found themselves in a line that snaked its way toward the Pearly Gates. These were the real Pearly Gates, not some nacreous Hollywood version, or something on YouTube. One moment, Ralph had been in the driver’s seat of his car, a Subaru, with his dog, Frodo, in the suicide seat. The next moment, a Mack truck barreled through the intersection, suddenly terminating all of Ralph’s and Frodo’s earthly moments.

So, they were now in line, on a cloud seemingly. Ralph could not have imagined the number of dogs he would see working their way toward the entrance and toward St. Peter and a number of his assistants.

“I can’t believe the number of dogs,” said Ralph as he finally stood before the Saint.
“Of course, there’s lots of dogs. This’s Heaven, after all. Where did you think you were?” The Saint stared at Ralph, then frowned.

“Did you see what that dog did?”
“You mean, Frodo?”
“Of course, I mean Frodo, Ralph,” said the Saint. “Did you see how he peed all over the Pearly Gates?”

It was true. Frodo was a terrific urinator.

“St. Peter, I’m so sorry. Please, he’s my dog. Please, let Frodo in.”
“What?”
“Please let him in.”
“Ralph, Frodo’s in. What’d you mean? It’s you we’re concerned about. What kind of dog owner would let his dog pee all over the Pearly Gates like that?”

The Saint and a number of his assistants were now exasperated. They studied the huge number of people and even greater number of dogs, stretching to the horizon. They didn’t want any holdups.
“Frodo gets in Ralph. It’s you that goes the other way. We only want dog owners who really watch their dogs. I mean, we’re talking about Eternity up here,” said the Saint.