At Liza’s funeral, grief hung thick in the air—but it was her golden retriever’s frantic barking that pierced the silence. The dog tugged hard at its leash, desperate to reach her white casket.
Most thought the dog was heartbroken. But her grandfather felt something was off. Ignoring whispers that he was just overwhelmed, he stepped up and laid a hand on the lid—then heard it: the faintest whimper.
Amid gasps, he opened the casket.
There, curled beside Liza, was her beloved cat, Lea—lifeless, as if still guarding her.
And just like that, the dog went quiet.
