I’ll See You Later, Rondo (All Dogs Go To Heaven)

Josh Klein
Apr 4
5 min read

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen—not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen—not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” — C.S. Lewis

Similarly, I believe in perfect being theology as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see the maximal greatness of God, but because by it I see everything else.

This theological lens has had a profound and transformative impact on how I interpret so many things—from confusing passages of Scripture, to the nature of heaven and hell, from divine sovereignty and human freedom, to God’s justice. The list could go on and on. But near the top of that list is how I now think about animals—and the hope of seeing them again.

A few weeks ago, I said goodbye to my best friend. Rondo, my miniature pinscher, was fifteen years old. He had been my constant companion, my shadow, my source of laughter and comfort for over a decade. Letting him go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Rondo wasn’t just a pet—he was family. He was a twelve-pound miniature pinscher who believed he was an eighty-pound Doberman. Always on guard, he took it upon himself to protect my family from any perceived threat—stray dogs, squirrels, neighbors, and especially the evil UPS man. Nothing escaped his watchful eye through the front window.

But Rondo wasn’t just fierce—he was full of joy and loved adventure. No matter the Nebraska weather, he demanded his daily walk. When it was time, he’d grab his harness or leash in his mouth, get down on his elbows, and give me that playful growl. If I didn’t move fast enough, those growls would turn into excited barks until we stepped out the door. He typically wanted at least two miles a day. In many ways, Rondo kept me in shape—and kept me sane.

He loved to ride in my truck or Jeep, practically hanging out the window to feel the wind in his face. But what he loved more than anything else was simply being near me—curled up at my side while I was reading or writing. He was with me as I typed every word of my master's thesis and doctoral dissertation. We were inseparable.

I could tell so many stories about our adventures on long walks, the way he made me laugh, or how he comforted me in hard times. But when I held him that final day, all I could do was thank God for the years we shared and whisper the words I truly believe: “I’ll see you later, Rondo.”

I don’t say that lightly. I say it with a reasonable hope—not based on wishful thinking, but on a theologically grounded conviction rooted in the very nature of God.

Can We Hope to See Our Pets Again?

Grief over the loss of a beloved pet is real. And for many, it raises a pressing theological question: Will I ever see them again?

Let me be clear: The Bible doesn’t give a detailed doctrine about the eternal destiny of animals. But what it does tell us—about the nature of God, the renewal of creation, and the presence of animals in the world to come—gives us strong reason to hope.

So here’s a refined version of what I call the “All Dogs Go to Heaven” Argument—tightened, clarified, and offered not as definitive proof, but as a source of reasonable hope for those who, like me, are grieving the loss of a four-legged family member.

The Reasonable Hope Argument (Refined)

If God is perfectly loving, then God desires the flourishing of all creatures He creates.
God is perfectly loving. (1 John 4:8)
Therefore, God desires the flourishing of all creatures He creates.
If a creature is not morally responsible in a desert sense (i.e., deserving of blame or punishment), then there is no justice-based barrier to its flourishing in the afterlife.
Animals are not morally responsible in a desert sense. (Unlike humans, they lack rational moral agency and libertarian freedom.)
Therefore, there is no justice-based barrier to the continued flourishing of animals in the afterlife.
If God desires the flourishing of a creature, and nothing prevents its continued existence, then it is reasonable to hope that creature will exist and flourish eternally.
Nothing prevents God from granting continued existence to animals, including pets.
Therefore, it is reasonable to hope that beloved animals will be granted continued life and flourishing in the New Creation.

This is not a sentimental appeal. It’s a hope grounded in the maximal greatness of God—in His perfect love, power, and justice. A God who creates creatures like Rondo, who brings joy and comfort and teaches us unconditional love, is not a God who forgets them.

But What Does Scripture Say?

Scripture paints a picture of the New Heavens and New Earth filled with animals:

“The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the young goat... the lion shall eat straw like the ox... They shall not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain...” — Isaiah 11:6–9; cf. Isaiah 65:25

Why wouldn’t these animals include those who walked beside us in this life? The God who restores all things surely does not forget the creatures who meant so much to His children.

J.P. Moreland, a brilliant Christian philosopher, affirms that animals have an immaterial aspect to their existence—what he refers to as a kind of soul. (See, The Soul: How We Know It’s Real and Why It Matters.) While he argues that animal souls are not as richly structured as human souls and do not bear the same "image of God," he maintains that animals are nonetheless ensouled beings with sentience, consciousness, and individuality.

This matters. Because if animals have a soul-like immaterial component, then it's metaphysically possible for them to survive the death of the body and be resurrected or physically recreated by God. And a maximally great being—perfect in love and power—has both the motive and means to do exactly that.