The Sound at the Door

I was staying with my grandmother and my cousin in a small town in the hills. My father phoned to tell me our old dog, Rusty, had passed away. I felt a deep sadness.

A few days later, I returned to my own apartment in the city. I was reading a book in my chair when I heard a soft thumping sound. Rusty used to thump his tail like that on the floor. I was puzzled, so I got up and peered into the hallway. He was there. He looked solid and real, as if he were waiting for a treat. I walked toward him, but he vanished. I decided not to mention it to anyone.

Later, my father started talking about a strange thumping at his back door every night. He first thought it was the neighbors. But then, one evening when I was visiting him, we both heard it clearly. We knew then that the house was not empty.