Memorializing the world’s best dog, along with some of the great artists we’ve lost recently, via an appropriately small story. Rest in peace T.J.
So.
Alan Rickman and David Bowie lead a group on to a plane on the first sunny mountain day in Colorado in 2016. They pause. “Have we forgotten anyone?”, says Mr. Rickman, in that voice that is always both Hans Gruber and Severus Snape all at once.
“Well.”, says Mr. Bowie. “I don’t think so. We’ve got Glenn from The Eagles … you know the women can’t resist him. Then there’s Lemmy. You said from the beginning that someone today was going to get hit in the face, and we agreed that no would ever notice if the ugliest man in rock and roll took one more punch.”
Bowie thought. He looked towards the sky.
“Have I forgotten anything, Alan?”
Rickman stares down at Bowie.
“You know, that devilish eye of yours always throws me. I can never get your tell. Are you serious? Don’t you remember where we’re going? Don’t you remember what we’ve been asked to do? Don’t you remember in whose service we stand?” Rickman stops for breathe.
“Oh.” Bowie is somewhat downtrodden. “The animals.”
“Yes,” says Rickman. “The animals.”
Bowie brightens. “I know! The perfect candidate! The man no animal can resist! Grizzly Adams himself!!!”
“Fine,” says Mr. Rickman. “If you must.” “But,” he counters finally, “You know what you’ve forgotten.”
“What?”, exclaims Mr. David Bowie earnestly.
“Why,” answers Mr. Alan Rickman, “the plan simply will not succeed without a dog.”
“Oh,” says Ziggy Stardust. “I know just the one then.”
