Chapter Text
Heaven was a wonderful place: endless expanses of fluffy clouds that looked like marshmallows, streams of fresh water that tasted like chicken soup, and, above all, absolute silence. At least until he arrived.
Rantanplan sat on a particularly fluffy cloud, his new golden halo constantly hanging over one eye, making him look even more dazed than usual. His angel wings were small and feathery, but he was convinced they were two enormous extra ears that had accidentally grown on his back.
The New Master
"Rantanplan! Come here, boy!" called a cheerful voice.
It was Abel. The first son of humanity, now a young angel with blond hair and a perpetual smile, had decided that the gray-brown German Shepherd was the purest (and most bizarre) creature ever to enter the gates of St. Peter's.
Rantanplan leaped to his feet—or rather, tried to, sliding across the surface of the cloud and eventually rolling down to Abel's feet.
"Here I am, Master Joe!" Rantanplan exclaimed. Then he stopped, blinking. "Wait... you're not Joe. You're too tall. And you don't shout. And you don't have a mustache. Are you a version of Joe that's been washed with too much bleach?"
Abel laughed, patting his head. "No, Rantanplan. I'm Abel. And I understand you perfectly now!"
"Incredible!" Rantanplan thought (even though he said it aloud). "Humans have finally learned my advanced language. It only took me a hundred years of training to teach you."
The First Mission: The Gate Guard
"Rantanplan," Abel said solemnly but amusedly, "since you were a guard dog in Nevada, today you'll help guard the back entrance to the Celestial Gardens. Don't let anyone in without authorization, okay?"
"Got it, White Master!" Rantanplan stood to attention, or at least his front half did, while his tail continued to chase an angelic butterfly.
Left alone in front of the golden gate, Rantanplan began to think with his usual impeccable logic.
"So, I have to guard the gate. But if I'm in here and the gate is over there, who's guarding me? I could be an intruder. I have to be arrested."
He turned and tried to bite his hind leg to put the handcuffs on himself, ending up spinning like a crazy top. Just then, Emily, the Seraph, arrived with a basket of star fruit.
"Oh, hello, little dog! Can I come in?" she asked sweetly.
Rantanplan stopped, his hair all disheveled. "Hold! Identify yourself, feathered stranger! Are you a Dalton in disguise? Where did you hide the dynamite?"
Emily laughed. "It's Emily, Rantanplan! You know me!"
Rantanplan narrowed his eyes (the ones not covered by the halo). "Emily... Emily... Ah! Joe's accomplice! The one who distributes explosive fruit! You won't get in unless you give me the password!"
"What's the password?" Emily asked, playing along.
"Um..." Rantanplan scratched his ear with his wing. "I don't remember. But if you have a celestial dinosaur bone, I might take bail."
The Miracle of Stupidity
As Emily offered him a piece of magic apple (which Rantanplan mistook for a vegetable projectile and tried to "defuse" by eating it), Abel returned to check on the guard.
"So, Rantanplan? Everything okay?"
"Master! I foiled a terrorist attack by a flying blonde!" the dog announced triumphantly, his muzzle smeared with apple. "She tried to bribe me with sweet grenades, but I neutralized them in my stomach. I'm a hero, aren't I?"
Abel exchanged a look with Emily and burst out laughing. "Yes, Rantanplan. You are the bravest hero in Heaven."
Rantanplan puffed out his chest, letting his halo fall over his nose. "I know. It's hard work, but someone has to do it. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go take a nap on that cloud that looks like a giant leg of lamb. Vigilance never sleeps... except after lunch."
And so, while the dumbest dog in the universe fell asleep, snoring and flapping his wings in a dream (convinced he was chasing his own shadow faster than he could), Abel and Emily realized that Heaven, with Rantanplan, had become a much less serious, but decidedly happier, place.