“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.”
Jenny noticed. She noticed everything.
“I miss you,” she said.
Her mother knelt beside her. “For what, sweetheart?”
In the morning, Spark didn’t wake up.
Jenny didn’t scream or cry at first. She just lay beside him for a long time, her cheek pressed to his side, feeling the stillness. Then she sat up, wiped her eyes, and said, “Thank you.”
One afternoon, Jenny sat on the porch steps, hugging her knees. Spark lay beside her, his head on her foot. 9yo jenny dog
But lately, Spark was tired. His legs ached. His ears didn’t hear so well anymore. And sometimes, when Jenny called him, he didn’t come—not because he didn’t want to, but because he simply didn’t hear.
“And remember the fort?” Jenny laughed softly. “I made a blanket tent in the living room, and you tried to come in, but you were too big, so you just stuck your nose through the gap.” “Do you remember when I learned to walk