Conversations that happen in my head at breakfast time:
“the Rainbow Bridge that animals cross when they die is the same rainbow bridge from Norse mythology. The Bifrost”
“isn’t Bifrost pronounced like beef roast, in the original language? Does that mean your dear departed dog gets to cross a beef-scented bridge”
“of course. It makes up for not being able to appreciate all the colors of the rainbow”
“what about cows. They’re animals aren’t they?”
“yes, and when cows cross the rainbow bridge, the beef roast smell is from their own funeral pyre. Cows go straight to Valhalla”