The Last Will and Testament of Ava Wolfe

MJR sent this very sweet and inspirational last will and testament of a well-loved dog:

I thought it was lovely, of course. And very true. Well, mostly true. But it got me thinking about kind of wills Ava and Robbie would write. After all, Robbie’s going to turn 14 in a couple of months and even eternal-puppy Ava will turn 10 later this year. So it’s time to think of such things.

Robbie would be easy. His last will would probably say, “Do whatever you want with my stuff. Just don’t bother me; I’m trying to sleep.”

Ava, OTOH … well, Ava would definitely not share the sentiments of the generous old dog in the graphic. Let me make a guess at her last will:

Before humans die, they write their last Will & Testament, and give their home and all they have to those they leave behind. Since you, my person, have prehensile thumbs, I will dictate my demands to you.

I know you may be tempted to give some poor and lonely stray my happy home, my bowl, etc. Fine. I don’t really care much about the bowls and things. Give them, even my beloved tennis balls, to some stranger on the street if you wish.

But when it comes to the lap I loved so much, the hand that stroked my fur, and the sweet voice which spoke my name, forget it.* I spent my whole life trying to insert myself between you and any other dog you ever paid attention to and you can’t seriously expect me to change just because I’m dead.

I know you don’t believe there’s life after death, but believe this: if you give my place in your heart to some sad, scared shelter dog, I will come back to haunt you — and IT. You’d especially better not get one of those snack-sized little rat-mutts like the neighbors have if you know what’s good for you — and IT.

When I die it would be best for all concerned if you vowed, “I will never have a pet again, for the pain of losing Ava, the most precious princess who ever lived, is more than I can stand.” DON’T go find an unloved dog, one whose life has held no joy or hope, and give MY place to him. If he (or particularly she, the b*tch) is in that bad a shape he (or she, the b*tch) no doubt deserves it.

I will never accept any competition for your affection, not even when you think I’ve gone and left you behind. Trust me, my jealousy is eternal. And as you know — I bite.

More sincerely than you can imagine,
Your one-and-only (forever) favorite dog,
Ava Wolfe

* On the other hand, it is perfectly okay to give some lesser dog the sharp voice that spoke my name when I rolled in dead porcupines or elk poop. Feel free.