Gypsy is a white Pitbull stuck in a high-kill animal shelter. She is due to be euthanized in just two days. However, a ghost appears to her and helps her escape.
The ghost doesn't know his own name or why he's here, able to speak with a dog who was...
Gypsy did not know how long it had been. However, she assumed years.
After Obelisk's passing, she had for some reason expected Ace to appear soon after.
But Ace was much younger. In fact, he had his whole life ahead of him. And, as he played it out, Gypsy kept herself busy with her pups; or keeping company with North or Obelisk.
Obelisk's parents, and Bronx's own gran-dogs, were kind and affiliated closely within the tiny pack. However, they came around less often, and when they did were mostly interested in Obelisk himself.
Gypsy didn't mind. She, too, was most interested in her own puppies, after all. Over the years, she had expected them to grow up.
But they didn't. None of the dogs aged here, including herself. In fact, Obelisk's clock had almost been reversed. He no longer had bony haunches and patchy fur. Instead, his fur was sleek. His nose was pointed and shining, instead of dull and scarred. He could launch himself into a loping run, and displayed no signs of discomfort as he did so.
Gypsy was happy for him. She was happy for them all, despite her impatience at waiting for Ace.
It would be better if he had a longer life, and lived to be old, she admitted to herself. But the thought nearly made her frown.
How much longer, though? I want him to be here. It isn't the same.
She pondered as she sat in the forest, her puppies playing with leaves or sticks or even attempting to climb trees, then sliding back down on stubby puppy paws.
"What's wrong, Mama?" Kiwi said as she approached, her white-socked paws pushing through fallen leaves. The golden light shifted across her butter-yellow shoulders, slanted and patchy from the overhanging leaves and vines that canopied all the trees.
Gypsy forced a smile to come to her face.
"Nothing, little gem. I'm alright. In fact, I wondered if anyone wanted to play hunt the frog!"
There was no frogs here, of course. For, if there had been- this would've been a frog hell, not a dog heaven. And so, the dogs didn't have anything to "hunt." Instead, if they were truly desperate to experience that sort of thing again, they'd have to cross the Hills back into life.
"I do! I do!" Little Riley turned and grabbed an ivy tendril in his teeth, ripping it off of the tree with a jerk of his muzzle. He then dragged it over to Gypsy and began picking off the stems, as the other puppies helped.
Gypsy watched them with a genuine smile this time. Briefly, she was distracted from her thoughts of Ace. She rose to her paws, ears flicking as she heard joyous barks of other dogs close by, ringing through the trees.
"Wait!! Don't forget to leave that last leaf on the end, as the 'frog'." Gypsy urged them, before the brindle-and-white Ginger could yank off the last leaf.
"Oh... right." Ginger stepped back as if she were ashamed, and looked down at her paws with a crestfallen expression. Gypsy licked her tiny black nose, wagging her tail at her daughter.
"That's alright, dear. Did you know one time I forgot to chew a bone before swallowing it, and almost choked?" Ginger's eyes went wide as she realized her mother also made mistakes, and then the puppy grinned.
"Wow! I want to try a bone, Momma!"
Taken aback, Gypsy's smile dissipated. As the two male pups and Star began tugging and chasing the barren ivy tendril on their own, Gypsy looked down at her.
"You will one day, my sweet. You will." Gypsy tried not to hold onto that thought for too long, as tears threatened to spill from her stinging eyes.
I wonder if that's true.But... I can make it true for them... can't I? Selfishly, she felt a tug of foreboding at letting her puppies return to life. And she realized that right now, she couldn't let them go. Not yet.
"I'll pull it, Star. I bet you aren't fast enough to catch the frog with me pulling it!" Gypsy said, tossing her head over her shoulder and looking down at floppy-eared Star.
Her white pup dropped the ivy tendril, then loped back a few paces; all the while conversing chattily with Riley.
Ginger said something else, but just then- Gypsy's head turned. For some reason, her heart dropped and her tail naturally lowered. She caught a scent on the wind, one she'd never thought she'd smell again.
It was Bronx's. His musky odor, paired with a fleeting dark prescience of self-loathing.
He was here, and he was nearby.
Gypsy's first instinct was to hide her puppies. However; she realized what a loss of an effort that'd be.
The huge male dog was already here. His brown-and-white splashed pelt appeared from over a hill and between the trees. His figure was outlined in the strong mid-day light, and just behind him, clouds floated against a blue horizon.
Bronx's nose twitched, and from afar, he swung his head back and forth. The mother dog could tell he was looking at the other dogs in the forest, opposite of her. However, her heart dropped even further as the male dog began pacing slowly down the hill, as if he was preparing to enter the forest.
Will he be able to see my pups? Or me? Surely not. North said so, the young she-dog fretted as she watched him, her ears pinned and her haunches pressed against the ground.
Gypsy then wondered how Bronx had died, and whether he'd lived to be old. Yet, other insecurities soon blotted out those wonders. She could now hear the crunching of leaves beneath his paw-steps.
What if North lied?
Heart pounding, the angel-dog lifted her head once again. Her puppies had watched her body language, and were twitching their ears as they looked around in confusion, wondering what had interrupted their game.
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Bronx looking for Gypsy in heaven
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