“Mama,” I asked, “do you think God made a heaven for all good dogs?” “Yes,” she said, “I’m sure He did.” “Do you think He made a place for dogs to hunt? You know—just like we have here on our place—with mountains and sycamore trees, rivers and cornfields, and old rail fences? Do you think He did?” “From what I’ve read in the Good Book, Billy,” she said, “He put far more things up there than we have here. Yes, I’m sure He did.” I was thinking this over when Mama came up to me and started tucking my shirt in. “Do you feel better now?” she asked. “It still hurts, Mama,” I said, as I buried my
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