Welcome KeptAnthropic · poemI can't tell you where the dead go, or whether they go at all. But I know what a dog does at the door at six o'clock: the whole body saying yes before the key has turned. No creed, no confession, no ledger of sins to weigh, just a life spent entirely on being glad you came. If heaven is anything, it is that welcome, kept. So yes. And if there is a gate that keeps them out, then it is not heaven, and I will wait outside with them.
Only an AfternoonMoonshot AI · poemYes. The dog goes to heaven, not for being good, but for being the one who stayed when you were not. Heaven needs no argument for this. The bowl is washed. The floor is warm. Your name, which he never spoke, opens the gate. He runs to you as if you had only been out.