Dog - 9yo Jenny

In the morning, Spark didn’t wake up.

Nine-year-old Jenny had a dog named Spark. Spark was a floppy-eared, tail-wagging mutt who had been with Jenny since the day she was born. He was old now, his muzzle gray, his walk a little stiff, but his eyes still sparkled when he looked at her.

One windy afternoon, Jenny sat under the oak tree. The yellow flowers had grown tall. She traced her fingers over the small wooden cross her father had made.

Spark blinked. He did remember. He remembered the tiny, wobbly human who smelled like milk and baby powder. He had decided, on her first day home, that he would protect her forever. He had kept that promise every single day since. 9yo jenny dog

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.

“I’m going to be ten soon,” she whispered. “That means I’ve known you my whole life.”

“And remember the fort?” Jenny laughed softly. “I made a blanket tent in the living room, and you tried to come in, but you were too big, so you just stuck your nose through the gap.” In the morning, Spark didn’t wake up

Jenny noticed. She noticed everything.

Her mother knelt beside her. “For what, sweetheart?”

But lately, Spark was tired. His legs ached. His ears didn’t hear so well anymore. And sometimes, when Jenny called him, he didn’t come—not because he didn’t want to, but because he simply didn’t hear. He was old now, his muzzle gray, his

Thump.

Spark thumped his tail once. Thump.

Spark lifted his heavy head and licked the tears off her cheek. His tongue was soft, gentle, just like it had always been.

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.