The Guardian reports that US company Eternal Earth-Bound Pets (EEBP) is offering to take care of your pets during The Second Coming, ie when the godly folk ascend physically to heaven - one imagines that there will be temporary congestion in the airspace over Baulkam Hills - and the sinners are left behind to enjoy something like The Road, but with added cockroaches, spiders and a Derrida-quoting crit lit student or two (the latter, of course, to be offered to Billy Bob and his fellow cannibals).
What will become of your pets when you are snatched up to heaven? Really bad stuff is predicted to happen during Tribulation. How safe will a small fluffy dog be? Who will look out for the interests of an indoor cat, a tank of fish who actually have quite narrow temperature requirements, or a bird with only a few words of English?Can the unrighteous legally take money from the pious in relation to provision of services regarding an event that might just not happen?
Post-Rapture Tribulationists in the United States have a possible answer. Eternal Earth-Bound Pets, USA, is staffed by avowed atheists, also ineligible for Rapture. For a one-time charge of $110, they pledge to adopt your pet if you are Raptured within the next 10 years. Founded in June 2009, they now cover 22 states. ...
EEBP's market was originally conceived of as post-Rapture Tribulationists; it now appears narrower: post-Rapture Tribulationists who love particular pets, and who can bring themselves to trust atheists.
The answer to that question is of course yes: it's matter of standard contract law. The person who expects to be raptured and wants someone to take care of Fluffy and Spot must not be under a legal disability (eg cannot be off his/her face or in barking moonbat mode when entering into the transaction) and courts would seek to determine an element of fraud but otherwise the cash registers can cling.
What if EEBP didn't perform, eg the Rapture happened and the cats n dogs were not properly looked after? Assuming that the secular legal system was still in place after the End of Time (a somewhat heroic assumption) disgruntled patrons could presumably demand their money back. Of course the wicked atheists, if not condemned to perpetual torment in a pit of fire listening to Dolly Parton or Beyonce, might plead that they had the best of intentions but were thwarted by an Act of God. We would need to look at the specific expressions in the contract, which might be akin to one of those amusing insurance contracts that promise to pay out if the Martians freeze-dry New Jersey or fritz Manhattan.
What if the godless pet minders had engaged in villainy, by for example eating said moggies and dogs? I do not purport to answer on behalf of the all highest, who might well think that eating a cat (nasty, sly, indolent creatures) was better than eating a child. In South Australia, subject to the defence of necessity, turning cats into casseroles is specifically prohibited by s 10 of the Summary Offences Act 1953 (SA), with a penalty of $1250. That Act does not make it an offence to eat babies or members of the clergy, elsewhere penalised as interference with a corpse.
