The following is a true story. It happened in rural Georgia. Last week. The names shall remain anonymous, to protect the guilty.

A little boy walked into the little church, unannounced. It was a weekday. A country church. Clapboards. Tin roof. The kind of church that—until a few years ago—only had window-unit A/C.

The boy greeted the church secretary. He asked if he could meet with the minister. When the young man entered the preacher’s office, the minister was at his desk.

The preacher is old. He’s been preaching since the Vietnam War was only a rumor. He has seen a lot of things in his day. Including the death of a spouse and a firstborn.

“What can I help you with, son?”

“I need your help.”

“What kind of help?”

“My dog, she just died.”

The old man looked at the boy. The child had clearly been crying. His eyes were pink and red.

“When did your dog die, son?”

“Last night. She was my best friend.”

The preacher didn’t know what to say.

“I got her from a shelter when I was a baby. She stuck with me when my dad walked out on my mom. I fed her from the table even though I wasn’t supposed to. That’s why she was so fat.”

The preacher smiled.

“Oh, it’s all my fault, Preacher.” The boy began to cry. “I left the back gate open. And she got out. She ran out into the road, and a car hit her. When my mom was coming home from work she found her body on the road.”

The preacher hugged the child.

“I want a funeral for her,” the boy said. “I want the best funeral ever. I want you to preach and sing and do all you normally do for everyone else.”

The boy reached into his little blue jeans and removed a wad of cash. He placed it on the preacher’s desk.

“Will you do it, Preacher?”

The next morning, the preacher showed up at the little boy’s house. There were two other children in attendance. The preacher wore a necktie.

The old man stood before a new hole in the ground. Nearby, there was a shovel still stuck in the dirt.

The dog was enshrouded in a Star Wars pillowcase.

The old man read through the 23rd Psalm. He delivered the same sermon he’s given at a million funerals. Including the funeral of his own wife. He began to weep as he recited.

“Surely goodness and mercy…”

The little boy stood beside the grave, wearing a brave face.

When the service was over, they all had lemonade and little crustless sandwiches his mom made. The old man sat on the porch beside the boy. He just kept looking at that hole in the ground.

“Preacher,” said the little boy. “You think dogs go to heaven?”

“No, son,” the old man said. “I don’t think. I know.”