This is a book by the ”American Shakespeare” Eugene O’Neil, a Nobel Prize winner and the greatest playwriter of 20th century.

O’Neil wrote his family Dalmatian Blemie’s will a few days before Blemie passed away because of his old age. O’Neil expressed the last wishes of this loyal companion in the most sentimental, yet whimsical way, reflecting the mixed emotions encoutered during pet loss.

”I, Silverdene Emblem O’Neill (familiarly known to my family,
friends and acquaintances as Blemie),
because the burden of my years is heavy upon me,
and I realize the end of my life is near,
do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until I am dead.
Then, remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.”

The book began with the self-introductory statements of Blemie and his realization of the end of his years. O’Neil revealed to his readers that every untold will and testament of a lost pet is hidden inside the human remembrance. Long before the physical burial, the recollection of a lost pet has been inscribed deeply in our mind. O’Neil chose the word ”bury” not only to indicate the upcoming truth of death but also reflect the canine behavior of hiding the treasure by digging and burying.



”I have little in the way of material things to leave.
Dogs are wiser than men.
They do not set great store upon things.
They do not waste their time hoarding property.
They do not ruin their sleep worrying about objects they
have, and to obtain the objects they have not.
There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and
my faith.
These I leave to those who have loved me, to my Master and Mistress,
who I know will mourn me most,...”

O’Neil stated Blemie’s view of material possession as a foolish human behavior resulting in waste of time and sleep deprivation. By pointing out that the only valuable in Blemie’s life, O’Neil clearly tied the core theme of this book to be the unconditional love and faith.

”...I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always,
but not to grieve for me too long.
In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness.
It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain.
Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and
this I owe to their love and care for me),
now that I have grown blind and deaf and lame,
and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know,
my pride has sunk to a sick,bewildered humiliation.
I feel life is taunting me with having over lingered my welcome.
It is time I said good-by,
before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love
me.”

This is perhaps the most touching part of the book. Indeed, O’Neil’s dissection of Blemie’s wishes echoes to many of us. If the happiness of our pets relies on our happiness, then our sorrow from their death would be the most tremendous burden one would ever imagine. But, how can we develop happniess and joy out of loss and grief? How can we say good-bye without shedding tear?

”It will be sorrow to leave them,
but not a sorrow to die.
Dogs do not fear death as men do.
We accept it as part of life,
not as something alien and terrible which destroys life.
What may come after death, who knows?”

”I would like to believe ...
that there is a Paradise where one is always young ...
where each blissful hour is mealtime;
where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams,
remembering the old brave days on earth,
and the love of one’s Master and Mistress.”

”I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect.
But peace, at least, is certain.
Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs,
and eternal sleeps in the earth I have loved so well.
Perhaps, after all, this is best.”

So here comes the answer: Heaven. After the sentimental moments, O’Neil comforted the readers with his whimsical descriptions of Blemie’s thought of Paradise, where everyone is happy and young; where every moment is time for meal, nods and dreams; where eternal peace finaly takes place. So now we have to believe that somewhere out there, there is a paradise for our lost pets, and perhaps one day we might even meet again.


”One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say,
’When Blemie dies we must never have another dog.
I love him so much I could never love another one.’
Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another.
It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again.
What I would like to feel is that, having once had me in the family,
now she cannot live without a dog!
I have never had a narrow jealous spirit.
I have always held that most dogs are good ...
... Some dogs, of course, are better than others.
Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best.”

”So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor.
He can hardly be as well bred,
or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime.
My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible.
But he will do his best,
I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green.
To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris.
He can never wear them with the distinction I did,
walking around the Place Vendome,
or later along Park Avenue,
all eyes fixed on me in admiration;
but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog.
Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison, in some respects.
He will, I presume,
come closer to jackrabbits than I have been able to in recent
years.
And, for all his faults,
I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home.”

O’Neil then came across the most common emotional response after pet loss: ”for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again”. Indeed, we all make vows that we would never experience this again. This is just like falling in love or having child birth. The fear of pain never prevents us from pursuit of the ecstasy of joy in our lives.
So, why not another?

”One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress.
Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret
but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my
long happy life with you:
’here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.’
No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you,
and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.”

I think this would be the most sincere and loyal vow ever. O’Neil once again reasured the readers with the superb canine hearing instinct by stating that ”No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you”.What a comforting thought that in the Paradise of eternal peace lies our very best friend with the unconditional love and faith to us. Despite death returns all beasts and vanities to dust, we shall know that there will always be a wagging tail buried in our remembrance with the loving memory of our lost pets.


Dedicated to Du-Du.
May he rest in peace.