Miss Dottie set down her clippers and walked over to us, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes softened as she looked at Junie, and she knelt down to her level. “Sweetheart,” she began gently, “Clove’s getting old. And sometimes, when animals get old, they get sick or tired, and it’s kinder to let them go peacefully. But it’s never easy, is it?”
Junie clutched Clove tighter, her lip quivering. “But she looks happy. She’s my friend.”
I watched as Miss Dottie and Junie shared a moment of understanding, despite the generational gap and the confusion surrounding the situation. It was in that moment that I realized Junie’s actions were driven by a pure, unfiltered love—a love that saw beyond the practicalities of life.
