His ribs weren’t visible, but he was thin enough to make me wonder how regularly he ate.
He didn’t bark when I approached.
He simply lifted his head.
“Hey there,” I said.
His dark eyes followed me as I walked toward Caleb’s grave.
That was when I realized where he had been lying.
Right beside Caleb’s headstone.
Not near it.
Beside it.
The dog moved a few feet away when I knelt, but he didn’t leave.
I placed fresh flowers beside the stone.
“You knew him?” I asked quietly.
The dog tilted his head.
I almost laughed.
It was the first time anything at that cemetery had made me want to smile in months.
After that, I started noticing him more often.
Sunday after Sunday, there he was.
Sometimes curled in the grass.
Sometimes sitting upright.
Sometimes asleep with his nose resting between his paws.
