Why Does 'Do Dogs Go To Heaven?: A Conversation' Explore Pet Afterlife?

I only realized I was the protagonist of a mafia novel after I met my husband, and the mafia boss, Lucien Vaughn, was a traveler from another world. According to the rules of his world, he wasn't allowed to develop romantic feelings for anyone in the story. However, the moment he saw me, he fell in love. And every time his heart stirred for me, he suffered pain so intense it felt as if his soul were being torn apart. He endured it ninety-nine times. Then, one day, I was kidnapped by a rival mafia family and taken to South Merica, where I suffered brutal torture. Yet somehow, I managed to escape and hide in a basement. As I listened to my enemies raging outside and searching for me, I quickly used the secret method Lucien had taught me to contact the world beyond this one. The connection worked, and through it, I overheard a conversation between Lucien and one of his friends from the other world. “Lucien, I thought Olivia was the person you loved most! How could you arrange for your enemies to kidnap her?” Lucien's voice was calm and detached. “I didn't have a choice. If I hadn't done it, then Emily Carter would've suffered in this storyline instead. She’s only a supporting character. She would’ve died. “But Olivia is the protagonist. The storyline will protect her. Once this story’s mission is completed, I'll finally be able to stay in this world forever. And when that happens, I'll make it up to Olivia." Tears streamed down my face. My heart felt as if it had been ripped apart, leaving behind nothing but pain and despair. So, when my enemies finally smashed open the basement door, I didn't struggle or run.

My grandfather died on a covert mission, and authorities approved a grand funeral in his honor. Concerned about my grief, my fiancé offered to handle the arrangements. On the day of the funeral, I arrived with my grandfather's ashes, only to find his portrait discarded on the ground, replaced by one of a dog. Furious, I tried to remove it, but my fiancé's adopted sister stopped me. "Hands off that portrait!" Suppressing my fury, I countered, "This is my grandfather's funeral. He was a decorated hero." "So what?" She shrugged, sneering, "Isaac said Luck deserves the grandest send-off. If you've got a problem, take it up with him. Adoring me, he'd cancel your engagement and ditch you in a heartbeat." I laughed incredulously, calling Isaac's family. "You people begged for this engagement. Since when does your adopted daughter get to call it off?"

My father died in the line of duty during a confidential assignment and received the highest national honor. I retrieved his ashes and escorted him home for burial. As soon as I reached the entrance of the residential area, I collided with a woman. The urn fell to the ground and injured her dog. In the next second, her palm struck my face. “You lunatic, you killed my dog! Can you afford to pay with your worthless life? Hand over the urn while kneeling so my dog can rest in peace!” I stood there in shock. Her dog had run into me without a leash, yet she tried to blame me. “There are security cameras here. Call the police if there is no other way. The box holds my father’s ashes. Watch your mouth.” The woman laughed as if she had heard the biggest joke. “He is a nobody. My dog was flown in from France. Can you afford to compensate me? If you know what is good for you, hand over the urn. My hubby is Ethan Stanford, the heir to Stanford Group. Can you afford to offend me?” I froze. I had no idea my husband had another wife.

When she drove home that night after a long day at work, Mikayla found a mysterious young man lying injured in her parking lot, bloodied and robbed. She rushed him to a hospital. She shockingly found out he had lost all his memories. The handsome young man couldn’t even remember his name. Mikayla let him stay at her place for a day with the expectation that he would leave the next day. The workaholic bank executive didn’t have time to care for any random stranger. But the young man insisted on staying. To drive him away, Mikayla gave an ultimatum. He could stay only if he agreed to be her pet. With a jovial attitude and not many options, he agreed and let her name him Davey, her new pet. After the contract was made, they gradually found out Davey’s identity when his model friend approached him and asked how he was preparing for the upcoming Paris Fashion Week. Who was Davey really? Will this strange relationship work out? Find out in ‘My Pet is a Model’.

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

The zombie apocalypse had arrived, and pets could transform into guardians to protect their owners—each person was allowed no more than three. My best friend had spent a fortune on three Tibetan mastiffs. The landlord cleared out a fish tank to raise a crocodile. My boyfriend? He had stormed the zoo and dragged a lion home. And me? I only had three stray cats. The eldest was blind, the second one limped, and the youngest had just turned one month old. The moment the apocalypse system announced that pet slots were locked, I knew I was doomed. I tried to hide with my three disabled cats, hoping to survive quietly. Day one of the apocalypse: terrified… Day two: helpless… Day three: my cats sauntered over, tails swishing, carrying some unidentifiable object. "Mama, I bit off all the zombie heads on this street. How's that? Solid enough?" I was rendered speechless.