Does God have a dog? Yes. Just a dog, though, not a cat or a bird or a goldfish or a gerbil or a ferret, and he’s not one of those nuts who keep a goddamned cheetah in their house. God has assigned all of his pets, other than the dog, to Noah, who is good at taking care of disparate animals.
When cat lovers arrive in Heaven and find out that God has a dog but no cat, they feel anger. If their anger registers too high on the heavenly anger meter, they’re sent directly to Hell.
What kind of dog does God have? What breed? Does God love the pit bull? He won’t commit on the pit bull. You can’t pin Him down. Somebody said that he was out for an evening once with Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Uriel, and a guy named Bruce, and when it got late and they were all a little impaired, God did whisper something to them about pit bulls – to all of them but Uriel who, ironically, was off urinating. But none of them will tell what He said.
Anyway, God has a Jack Russell. He has always been partial to fox hunting and this active terrier is ideal for the sport. Of course, God doesn’t use actual foxes. Satan turns souls currently burning in Hell into faux foxes. They’re glad to be out, sort of like Nick Cage in “Drive Angry,” even if they are being chased through the woods of Heaven by a pack of terriers. It’s actually just God’s dog, named Jamie, chasing them, but he seems like a pack. Heaven is full of that sort of thing.
Of course, sadly, you can’t talk about religious matters for more than a minute without sex coming up. I apologize for that, but I didn’t create the Universe. You Know Who did. Having said that, what does Jamie do for “relief.” Yes, he mounts God’s leg and that’s a really cute sight, in a scary sort of way. That’s where thunder comes from. But it’s not enough. Jamie needs a bitch. God tried having Satan send up faux bitches. Some of them hated that duty but others sort of enjoyed it. Jamie wasn’t satisfied. His partners would scream or shriek or beg for mercy or moan in delight, depending, but none of them howled like, well, you know, like a bitch in heat. So God asked Noah to send over the real thing. Her name was Ethel and she was prime stuff. But she didn’t take to Jamie. Every time he sniffed her butt, she’d turn and lift her lipsover her considerable canines in a snarl, with fire blazing from her big beautiful liquid dark eyes. Jamie was beside himself.
“You’re God,” he barked at his master. “Do something.”
“With your breath, I don’t blame her,” God said. “Let’s change your devine kibble.”
For the denouement to this tale, look up “God’s Puppies” in the Book of Enos (brother of Elvis).