For several days, I had sensed a familiar weight on the edge of my bed. My first dog, a gentle golden retriever, had passed on five summers ago. Since then, two new puppies had filled the house with their noise.
Last evening, at a quarter past midnight, I jolted awake. The lamp on my desk was glowing. A chill ran through me, so I whispered a quiet plea for protection. I peered into the hallway and saw a dog. My first thought was that it was my younger pup.
I called her name softly, but the shape faded into the dark. I looked once more and recognized the outline of my grandmother’s old terrier. He had been gone for three years. My heart hammered in my chest. I hurried to the living room where my father was reading and told him what I saw. He nodded, saying he was not surprised, as he had felt similar things before.
Just yesterday, I was playing fetch in the yard with the new puppy when she suddenly froze, staring intently at nothing. I wondered if she felt the presence of those who came before. Now, I feel a strange comfort. I am happy.