Thinking about a girl I grew up with who spun her dog's fur into yarn, then knitted gloves out of the yarn and how all the other kids made fun of her mercilessly for it.
And how she's now used those gloves for over thirty winters and each time she puts them on, she gets to pet her beloved dog's fur even though Ginger is long gone. And how even though her bones have long since been swallowed by the earth, Ginger is still protecting her owner from the cold.
Just an ancient pact, passed down from the earliest dogs that slept beside humans to keep us warm, continuing on for decades after one of their deaths.
