Angel On Earth- A Dog Novel

29 🐾 Beneath a Moonlit Ocean 🌊

Obelisk's cinnamon-brown paws were stretched across from Gypsy's. Their bellies were pressed to the sand as they conversed, watching over the puppies.

Out here on the ocean-side of heaven, dogs liked to do much of the same. Black and white dogs, tan dogs, brown and yellow and grey dogs-splotched or brindled or tri-colored or patterned, were lazed about the beach.

Some of the other dogs had puppies, like Gypsy. And many of them were amassed together in groups called families.

Obelisk has found his fallen family members. They weren't too far away, now- they loped along the beach shore just beyond the playing puppies, the Grand-dogs lost in their own conversational trot around the sand.

It had warmed Gypsy's heart to see Obelisk reunited with his murdered family members.

However, as the peppered-snouted brown male turned his face towards her's, she saw nothing but pride on his face.

"Ace is a leader-dog now. A pack dog. I wonder what new friends he'll bring with him when he comes?" The old male barked gruffly, as Gypsy pricked her ears.

The halo above her tipped as her head did, and glinted beneath the dying sun of a reflective ocean's fiery waves. Wind whipped across the sand and through their pelts, yet it was cool- free and wild ocean wind... which was uplifting. Far, far, beyond their paws- waves licked in and out of the bay. They, too, reflected a yellow-orange glint, as the light played on their broken surfaces.

"I've seen Killer. But other than that, I'm not sure." Gypsy began to recall her insight to the black-and-white Pitbull through visions, which had helped her accept her afterlife.

Or at least, the parts that weren't directly tied to her puppies... And Ace.

"Yes, me as well. I met him before I died. He helped Ace care for me." Obelisk left the silence to stew, and Gypsy knew there was unspoken words laid thick between them.

Ace... what if he gets a new mate? What if some other she-dog... her lips twitched over her teeth with a pang of jealousy and loss.

To think, might she be known as nothing more than a dead she-dog? As Gypsy pondered this, her eyes fell upon her puppies again. And for a moment, she forgot about the weight of those doubts.

It was some time after that, not long before nightfall, when the mother-dog scented a familiar musk.

Another dog. And, quite interestingly enough, it's North. Her nose twitched as she confirmed that North was alone.

Scents carried strange here. If you wanted to catch the scent of a dog close by, you could, regardless of wind direction. And underneath a skewering, clouded navy sky, Gypsy rose to her paws.

The sand was soft as fleece beneath her. In fact, nearly everywhere she stood felt like her paws were touching clouds. Soundlessly, the two dogs-one black and one white, approached each other beneath the moon's white glowing eye.

Darkness fell upon them as Gypsy stilled, within speaking distance of her adversary.

"I knew you were here. But I didn't think you'd ever approach me," The white mother-dog spoke first, leaning back testily.

"What do you need to say?"

Just as uncertainly, North's eyes flicked open and settled upon hers. The eerie yellow-brown was unsettling, until Gypsy saw North glance at the ground with a frown.

She's ashamed.

But of what? Getting herself killed, or hurting my pups?

"I'm sorry," North breathed, starting off reproachful and then glancing over at Gypsy with pleading pity in her eyes.