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.
That night, Jenny’s parents found her asleep on the porch, curled around Spark, one small hand resting on his chest. His breathing was slow and quiet.
Thump.
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.
Her mother knelt beside her. “For what, sweetheart?” 9yo jenny dog
“For letting me say goodbye,” Jenny whispered. “Yesterday, I told him everything I needed to say. And he listened. He always listened.”
In the morning, Spark didn’t wake up.
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.