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With that, Geela looked
far, far away ...
And then Caro saw it,
not the dog ...

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       Caro wasn't used to anyone talking about ghosts, let alone ghost dogs. Also, not that many grownups talked to her like another grownup, even though she was already thirteen – thirteen and three weeks, to be exact.
       She decided to act as if this was a regular everyday way for two people to talk. "So how long has Fluffers been dead, exactly?"
        "Five years," replied Geela. "It will be five years next week. She's always been most present around her birthday."
        "Birthday?" asked Caro.
        "Well, it's the day she got born into being a dead dog," smiled Geela, then continued, "And something always happens."

With that, Geela looked far, far away, and stayed that way for a long time. When she stopped looking into that distant place, Caro was still there. "I'm here for Fluffer's birthday. Two weeks for just the two of us. One week before her birthday and one week after. It's the first time I'm doing this. Because this year is even more special than the others. It's good-bye." She didn't say more. Caro could see tears in Geela's eyes.
        "Good-bye?"
        "Yes. Good-bye. Fluffers still loves to be with me, by my side, but we both know it's time for her to go. I feel her pulling away, longing to race free. Maybe also, this is closer to the time she would have died, had there been no accident, and so now she is ready to go. And I am getting ready to let her go."

And then Caro saw it … not the dog, but a black sweatshirt dragging across the grass, one arm lifted as if held by someone, someone not very big, the sleeve dented at the elbow as if squished between a dog's teeth. Geela saw it too. "Fluffers!" she said in a mock-stern voice. The sweatshirt dropped immediately into an inert pile. "Now where were we?" Geela tried to remember what she had been saying.
        Caro could not take her eyes off the sweatshirt – for good reason, it turned out. One sleeve of the sweatshirt was soon picked up again, and the sweatshirt continued on its way toward the house, stopped at the top of the stairs, dropped into a heap.
        Geela caught Caro staring. This time she did not say, "Fluffers!" She just laughed. "Yes, that's Fluffers.

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And then Caro saw it, not the dog but something moving.

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****

the beginning     just before

Meg, Jon and Myra Face a Cold and Rainy Day

Jon sat, as if caught in a spell. He was listening. Myra was listening too. Her broth and cousin were listeners.
Meg was not a listener. She loved to read.
And to imagine. Now she imagined that it wasn't Caro who saw the sweatshirt moving across the lawn, but her.
What would she do? Would she be scared? Would she think it was a trick?

Or would she be more magic than Caro, who couldn't see the ghost dog?
Meg - short for Nutmeg, though she told no one her real name - imagined being magic,
like Harry Potter, and like Peter Pan, and like the weird witch in an old TV show her mother liked,
who could wiggle her nose to make magic happen.

And then Meg got tired of imagining. She wanted to go on, to get to the next page.
Once again she started droning in her head. Children stories. Childrens story. Children's stories.
Stories for kids. Kid stories. Kids story.
Online stories for children. Children literature. Children's literature.
On and on and on.
And then over again. Children stories. Childrens story. Stories for kids.
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And then she heard one of her favorite sounds. Silence. Time for the page to turn.

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