Suppose God puts you on some distant planet, with a beloved pet.

 

OK, OK, and a spouse and a house, and whatever family you want, and friends, and a whole community and nourishment and stuff. But we’re going to focus on the pet.

 

And God sayeth unto you, “”I verily Giveth unto thee a Choice!!”” (He talks in thunderous tones and double quotation-marks.) “”Your pet can be short-lived, or live all the days of your life. You may choose.””

 

No-brainer, right? Why not choose a pet that dies around the same moment you do?

 

But that’s not the world we live in. Why not?

 

We learn about death in the cruellest way.

 

Perhaps because we are not angels, and do not deserve perfection. I’ll leave that to the theologians.

 

But I’ll offer this possibility: perhaps we have a lot to learn about what to value — and when. And how.  Perhaps shoving it in our face is the only way to make the lesson stick.

This isn’t a particularly humorous thought, but since we can’t live on that ideal other world, let’s enjoy the humor and the frolicking that goes on in the only one we’ll ever know. It’s not at all a question of morality.  By letting the kitten play in that paper bag, when our time comes, we may find that we were essentially doing the same thing.