“Fleegle, what does Buck from across the street look like?” I ask.

“He’s big, bigger than me, and very furry. He could clog the bathtub drain just by walking passed it. Why? I thought you’d seen him around.”

“Well, I was talking to the neighbors across the street, and they said they didn’t have a dog. They used to have a dog named Buck, but he got loose from their yard through a hole under the fence and got hit by a car.”

“Well that explains why the biscuits he’s been trading me for Roca taste so heavenly but never fill me up.”

“I think you’ve been seeing a ghost.”

“Hmm… You’ve never seen him then?”

“No,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it. I see a lot of things you don’t see.”

“Apparently.” I pat his back. “Did you know he was a ghost?”

“It had crossed my mind, but it didn’t matter. I mean, dead or alive, he’s still Buck, and I like Buck. He’s my friend.”

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