Psychologically, Happy had to admit that he had sunk pretty low. Even by his standards. No one would believe his story of spaceships and a shot-in-the-head alien. What the hell, he thought, having another pull off the bottle.
"You believe me, don’t you boy? Hell, you saw the ship for yourself!" Consoling himself that at least his dog believed him, Happy gave Spike a good rubbing behind the right ear. Spike whined appreciatively and rolled over onto his back hoping for a vigorous belly rub as well.
Grunting from the effort as he bent forward, Happy obliged him. "You’re a good old boy," he said fondly in a gruff voice, "and I’m going to miss you."
He knew the end could come at any time now. He didn’t suppose there would be a warning first or anything like that. No, they had told him it would be quick and merciful. Probably over with in a blink of an eye.
Well, at his age it was no surprise to be thinking of death anyway, he decided.
It was just strange to think of everyone else in the world checking out with him at the same time. What was it Wanda used to say about death? He remembered now.
She used to say that death was nothing more than the failure of living. Guess that’s about as accurate a description as I could come up with on my own, Happy thought.
He really had no concrete beliefs in the existence of either a heaven or a hell.
Happy had to admit to having never been much of a religious man. Not that he didn’t believe in God, he quickly assured himself. He’d just never been very big on all that folderol that seemed to go along with belonging to a church. No sir, Happy’s cathedral had always been the outdoors. For over eighty years every time he had gone into the woods; gotten his fishing line wet, or slipped his boat into the water, he’d gone to church in his mind. To a fellow like Happy, nature and spirituality were one and the same.
Even so, he felt a shiver of dread pass through him. Oh, not for himself. Hell, he guessed he was ready to go anytime. No, it was for all the young who hadn’t had a chance to live yet. To enjoy life. Now they never would.
"It’s a pity ... a Goddamn pity, that’s what it is," he confided to Spike in a voice beyond sad.
For a time Happy sat peacefully by Spike, giving him the belly rubs that he loved and looking out at Jericho Bay. Jesus, it was sure pretty out there, he sighed. I’ve been a lucky man to have woken up to that view almost every morning of my life. Absentmindedly he lit up his pipe, puffing away to get it going.
Then he was struck by, for him, what was an odd thought. Has my life been meaningful?
The question so startled him that he paused in mid-puff. But the answer never did come to him even though he waited awhile, so instead he turned to the dog and said, "How about another beer, boy?"