“I don’t know, Mom,” I admitted, my own voice trembling. “But we’re going to find out.”
The rest of the service was a blur. The funeral director hurriedly ushered everyone out of the church, promising to get to the bottom of the mix-up. My family and I were left standing outside, the gray sky mirroring the uncertainty that hung over us.
As we waited for answers, I couldn’t help but wonder about the sequence of events that had led us here. Was this an honest mistake, a horrific oversight in the chain of funeral arrangements? Or was there something more sinister at play, hidden beneath the surface of our grief?
Luna stayed by my side, her steady presence a reminder of the urgency behind her actions. Her intervention had brought us face-to-face with a mystery we couldn’t ignore—a mystery that needed solving, not just for our peace of mind, but for the dignity of my father’s memory.
In the days that followed, we would uncover secrets and lies we never imagined, each revelation bringing us closer to the truth. But in that moment, standing outside the church with Luna at my side, all I could think was that sometimes dogs really do know best.