They were so happy that they did not notice that the neighbor’s dog, Bandit came in. It crept toward the plastic container that was holding ashes and sniffed around because it was intrigued by the scent.
Perhaps it was the smell of my bones that caught its attention. Its eyes gleamed with excitement as it grabbed the container in its mouth and bolted down the stairs.
Meanwhile, the family inside sipped on their drinks, still oblivious about what had happened.
"Woof! Woof!"
Bandit trotted over to the neighbor’s five-year-old daughter, Emma. It carried my ash container in its mouth in a proud manner.
With her child innocent, Emma snatched my urn from Bandit. She then popped open the lid and began pouring my ashes onto the ground for the dog.
Bandit wagged its tail in glee. It quickly licked my remains with gusto, leaving almost nothing on the ground.
When I glanced at the plastic container, it was already empty, except for a few traces of what was once my body.
As the sky darkened and storm clouds gathered, Emma pulled Bandit along heading toward their home. On her way out, she accidentally kicked over the container and spilled what little was left of my ashes.
Whoosh.