Michael: Searching for meaning is philosophical suicide. How does anyone do anything... when you understand the fleeting nature of existence?
Eleanor: It's pretty easy, man. I mean, you learn about death when you're a kid, and it's just not that big of a deal.
[flashback:]
Donna: Eleanor, baby, I have some sad news. Your doggie, Max, has passed away. Do you know what that means? [Young Eleanor shakes her head] Well, sometimes when a dog is very old, like, five or six or something, he crosses a long rainbow bridge, and at the end of that bridge is a beautiful farm with lots of grass and trees and, I don't know, wagons and a rainbow. I already said "rainbow." The point is: that's where Max is.
Young Eleanor: Can we visit him at the farm?
Donna: Nope, because it's very far away... in... Guam. It's in Guam.
Young Eleanor: Can we at least...
Donna: Okay, look. I'm lying, okay? You caught me. Congratulations. The farm is made up. The bridge is made up. There's no such place as Guam. Your dog, Max, is dead in a duffel bag under the deck.
Young Eleanor: How did he die?
Donna: The short answer is: I don't know. And the slightly longer answer is: I didn't know how hot it gets in cars sometimes. The point is: don't be sad. Honestly, I'll get kind of annoyed if you do get sad because it's been a very long day and that bitch Carol from work was really on my ass about some stupid thing that I don't even know what it was. And at the end of that long day, I had to use one of my favorite duffle bags to do something very gross that I did not like. Now, let's celebrate that dead dog's life by bringing Mommy another bottle of white.