“I love you, boy. I hope I see you again someday.” Warm tears streamed down his face. Taking off the pug’s collar, he crammed it into the back right pocket of his shorts. One last time he embraced his friend, taking Pugsly’s one little black paw in his hand and tenderly hugging it with his fingers. He gently lowered him into the newly dug grave.

“Goodbye, Pugsly,” he whispered, petting the soft fur, and stood up. The raindrops dwindled as the sun peeked through holes in the gray clouds. His mom held his hand as they watched his dad bury their family member in his final resting place.

As they walked back to the house, Benjamin was hunched over, looking down at the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. He thought about squashing a big, shiny green beetle, racing to get somewhere over the wet blades of grass. What good would that do? he thought. Today he couldn’t take a life. They walked inside the house. Pugsly lay covered in dirt, peaceful and feeling no pain from the two tiny bite marks on his chest.

The big green beetle ran across the large front yard, its busy pace not slowed by the wet ground. It approached the soggy road and crossed a warm spot where the sun shone down on the gravel. Heading for the row of hedge trees across the road, the beetle sensed the fast approach of increasing vibrations and SPLAT! The truck tire smashed it into the soft, tiny rocks.

Breakfast began around a quiet table in the Biggs’s country house.

“Honey, aren’t you going to eat anything?” Carol looked worried.

“No,” he said, looking down at his plate. Something poked him in his back right pocket and he remembered Pugsly’s collar.

He pulled it out, tore the worn address sticker off the back, and slipped his fist through to make a bracelet.

“Sweetie, you need to eat some–”

“Hey!” his dad butted in, “Has anybody gotten the newspaper yet?”

Carol gave Tom an annoyed look.

“Ben, would you mind grabbing it?” he asked with a mouth full of sausage.

“Sure.” Benjamin shuffled out the front door. The sun hit him in the face. The pond glistened with ripples and the long, grassy wet hill on the other side sparkled emerald green. But the beautiful scene didn’t brighten him up any.

The big oak tree in front of his house was always full of birds, but as he walked by it he heard birds he’d never heard before. They seemed to be yelling at each other in really high voices. He continued walking down the pebbly driveway, noticing the different types of rocks that had been driven on for years. When he was younger he spent hours picking out flat rocks and trying to skip them across the pond.