Beneath the Oak

I feel different. 

Not good. 

Not bad. 

Just different. 

My Mom and I were having so much fun. She would throw the ball. I would chase it, grab it, and run back to them. We play this game every day and I look forward to it. But today was different. 

I thought I’d just go a little farther down the street - only for a second! I saw something move across the road, a shadow I wanted to chase, and I didn’t think about the loud fast things that sometimes went by. I never meant to make them sad. I didn’t want this. 

The world spun, and then there was a strange kind of stillness. My body felt weightless like I’d leaped too high in the backyard, soaring over the fence. I couldn’t feel the ground, couldn’t smell the familiar scents of dirt and grass. Just this cool, sharp scent of metal and something thick.

I tried to bark, but nothing came out. My paws didn’t move the way they should. When I looked down, I could see my own body lying there, crumpled on the pavement like a discarded toy. It was…odd. I’d never seen myself from this angle. 

When the world went still and I saw my humans running to me, their faces twisted up with worry, I wanted to hide. I tried to wag my tail, to show them I was alright, that I was still here. But my body didn’t move. I could only watch them from somewhere nearby, somewhere strange and distant. 

“Oh, God, no. No, no, no…” Mom’s voice broke, and she fell to her knees beside me. Mom was crying, and it hurt to see her that way. She wasn’t supposed to cry, not over me. Her hands were trembling as she reached out to touch my fur, but I couldn’t feel her. She pulled them back like I might shatter. Her face was wet, glistening like dew in the morning light. 

Dad was there too, his strong hands shaking as he held her shoulders. He was always the one who stayed calm, even when I chewed up his shoes or got into the trash. But now his eyes were as lost as mine. Dad’s voice was low and broken as he murmured to her, but I could see he was struggling too. He just pulled Mom close, letting her cry against his chest. His fingers traced the collar around my neck - the one with the little silver tag they had bought for me that said Lucky. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you!” I wanted to say. 

I’d never meant to make them cry, to see Dad’s strong face soften and crack like that, or to watch Mom’s shoulders shake with sadness. If only I’d stayed in the yard if only I’d listened and stayed close like they always told me to. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

If I could, I’d nuzzle her one last time, lick her cheek, and let her know that I was alright, even if she wasn’t. I’d tell them both that I loved them and that I was sorry for not listening, sorry for putting them through this. I didn’t want my last memory of them to be like this - filled with pain and regret. 

There was this heaviness in the air, pressing down on them. And it was strange because I wasn’t heavy anymore. I was free, floating, watching them, feeling a pull between wanting to run to them and some force drawing me somewhere else, somewhere quieter. 

I watched Mom and Dad move slowly through the backyard, carrying something wrapped gently in a blanket - the blanket I used to lie on in the evenings. It felt strange, looking down and seeing myself so still, cradled in their arms. I’d never seen them so quiet, so careful like they were afraid to let me go. 

They’d chosen a spot beneath the big oak tree, the one where I used to dig and sniff around, where the shade kept me cool in the summer. Dad’s hands were firm as he held the shovel, and even though he looked strong, I could see his eyes were red, and a little glassy. Mom stood by, clutching the edges of the blanket, her face turned toward me but her gaze was somewhere far away. 

As they gently lowered me into the earth, I felt a strange warmth, almost like the light of the sun breaking through on a chilly morning. It wasn’t scary or sad - it was a kind of peace, a sense that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. They placed some of my favorite toys around me - a well-loved tennis ball, a worn chew toy - things that held pieces of our happiest days. And as they covered me with soft, cool earth, I felt their love settle around me like a blanket. 

Mom knelt by the freshly turned soil, pressing her hands into the ground as if trying to hold onto me one last time. Her shoulders shook, and Dad wrapped an arm around her, his face close to hers. They didn’t say anything; they didn’t have to. I could feel their love as surely as I’d felt it when I was alive - strong and enduring, a warmth that even this moment couldn’t take away. 

I lingered a while. 

I lingered for a year. 

Watching as they would visit me, sharing a silence filled with memories. I knew that even though they couldn’t see me anymore, they’d feel me - every time they looked at the oak tree, every time they heard leaves rustle, every time they felt that soft spot in their hearts where I’d once curled up. 

Then I heard a familiar sound. One that I used to make. 

A soft bark. 

I watched as Mom and Dad stepped into the yard, holding the leash of a small, wiggly puppy. His fur was a soft, warm brown with little patches of white, and he was practically bouncing with excitement. His tail going like it had a mind of its own. He looked a bit like me—enough that it made me feel proud, like somehow we were family.

At first, I’d worried they might feel guilty, or that they wouldn’t want another dog after losing me. But I’d watched them heal, little by little, even through their sadness. They’d left my collar on the mantel and sometimes talked about me, smiling as they told stories, even if their eyes looked a bit glassy. I stayed close, trying to comfort them in my way, sending little whispers of love their way.

Now, seeing them with this new pup, my heart felt as full as the first day they’d brought me home. I watched as Dad knelt down, his hands reaching out to let the puppy sniff him. His laughter bubbling up in a way I hadn’t heard in a long time. Mom was already crouching, reaching to scratch behind his ears, her face glowing with happiness. The little guy seemed to know right away that he was in the best place, surrounded by people who would love him endlessly. And I felt… peaceful.

I drifted closer, feeling a deep warmth as I watched them play together. The puppy looked up at them with those big, trusting eyes, just like I had. I could feel their joy, and I knew it wasn’t a replacement—it was just more love. Love that grew and changed and made room for new friends. They had enough room in their hearts for both of us.

As the pup chased a leaf that skittered across the grass, I felt like I was running with him, guiding him just a little. I would watch over them all. I would always be part of this family, but now I could rest, knowing they had someone new to hold and to fill their days with happiness and laughter. And that made me happier than I ever thought I could be.

So I turned away from the street, my spirit curling around them one last time, hoping they’d feel a hint of my love and forgiveness. And as I moved into the warmth, I knew they would be just fine. They had given me the best life a dog could ask for, and now, beneath the tree, I would also be close.