In the morning, Spark didn’t wake up.
One afternoon, Jenny sat on the porch steps, hugging her knees. Spark lay beside her, his head on her foot.
Her mother knelt beside her. “For what, sweetheart?” 9yo jenny dog
They buried Spark under the old oak tree where he used to wait for Jenny’s school bus. Jenny planted yellow flowers—his favorite spot to nap in the sun had been by the yellow ones.
Spark had loved the fort. He had loved the sound of Jenny’s heartbeat when she fell asleep against his side. He had loved the way she shared her crackers, always breaking off the smallest piece for herself and giving him the biggest. In the morning, Spark didn’t wake up
And for a moment, she heard a tail thump.
Weeks passed. Jenny still looked for Spark when she came home. She still saved the last bite of her sandwich. She still left the back door open a crack, just in case. Her mother knelt beside her
Spark lifted his heavy head and licked the tears off her cheek. His tongue was soft, gentle, just like it had always been.
“Do you remember when I learned to walk?” Jenny asked. “Mom says I used to hold on to your fur and you’d just stand there, so still, like a fuzzy statue.”
“I miss you,” she said.
She turned and wrapped her arms around Spark’s neck. He smelled like sunshine and old leaves. “You’re the best dog in the whole world,” she whispered into his fur. “And when you can’t walk anymore, I’ll carry you. And when you can’t see anymore, I’ll be your eyes. And when you have to go…” Her voice cracked. “I’ll remember you forever.”