Captain Midnight here reporting from the other side.
That’s not strictly true, I suppose. But Himself and I did spend an enjoyable evening flirting with the idea, last week. We’d been out shopping in Nailsworth during the afternoon and came across a poster advertising a Death Café to be held at The Canteen (a rather groovy, dog-friendly coffee shop) that very evening. Himself goes there sometimes for breakfast and I get to sit under the table and charm the other customers with my world-famous impression of a well-behaved hound.
He can get a bit maudlin left to his own devices around the subject of death and dying, so I decided to go along to keep him company and to find out what it was all about. By the time we got there,
fifteen, eighteen, twenty-two, a lot of people were sitting round tables, having a chat. We sat next to a nice young couple from Stroud and Himself got stuck into the conversation.
Afterwards, Himself said how helpful it had been to share experiences and to ‘normalise’ the subject. He donated a couple of his books to the book table. Did you know that I feature quite prominently in one of them? Just thought I’d mention it in passing. They asked if he’d be willing to talk about them at a Dying Matters event next month. Naturally, Himself agreed. Well, he’s not going to turn down the chance of a few minutes in the spotlight, is he?
Off the record, I can’t see what all the fuss is about. Humans worry too much. We canines are much better adjusted to the vicissitudes of life and death. When I wake up in the morning, I know it’s going to be a good day. So far, this has happened every morning since I was born. I suppose one day I’ll go to sleep and I won’t wake up. I won’t know anything about it.