A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that his dog had died also. He wondered where this road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It appeared to be made of fine marble. At the top of a long hill, the wall was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.
He and his dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk off to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, could you tell me where we are?"
"Oh, this is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued on the way he had been going. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the reader, "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there." The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"Why, this is Heaven," was the man answered.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope ... that's Hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"
"No. I can see how you might think so ... but we're just happy that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind."
Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word, maybe this could explain:
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do; you forward jokes.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.
And just to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for ... guess what you get? A forwarded joke from me.
So my friend, the next time you get a joke from me, don't think that I have sent you just a joke, but rather that I thought of you that day and wanted to send you a smile."