Golden and clumsy, its ears flopped with every step, tail swishing like it had a secret. It paused to sniff a leaf, sneezed, and then chased a plastic bag that blew past. Jamie found himself smiling. Not just with his mouth — with something deeper.
For a fleeting second, the boy wasn’t thinking about his mom. Or the funeral. Or the silence. He was watching a creature that didn’t know sadness. That only knew the joy of a breeze and the mystery of the ground. That night at dinner, he poked at his mashed potatoes and quietly asked, “Can we get a dog?”