How could such dull beady eyes also show so much love?

How could that unknowing look seem to be filled with so much knowledge?

How could those pointy little ears offer the assurance of a good listener?

I tangled my hands into the dog's scruffy black fur and buried my face in his neck, the tears thick and warm as they dripped onto the freshly overturned dirt that marked the grave. His grave.

"Stupid dog." I mumbled. He cocked his head to the side in confusion and nudged my cheek with the end of his cold, wet nose.

"Where did you come from anyway? Who's are you?" I whispered again, as if expecting him to actually answer the question. I slipped my hands under the red collar that he wore and twisted it, searching for a name. Red had been his favorite color.

"Oh you do have a name!" I said. "What does it say?"

I squinted my eyes to make out the letters. "Wi--Will--William!" I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth. My eyes instantly swiveled up to the shiny white tombstone that read: William Caterbury.