text: It’s been four years since I found the dog on our doorstep, licking its cute little paws, and he hasn’t changed a bit since. Mum says it’s strange; dogs don’t live as long as humans do. And they grow old much more quickly. I’ve grown so much since the dog arrived on our porch - I come up to Mum’s elbows now - but the dog looks the same as ever. The shiny black coat, not a hint of greying. Always active and willing to run with me. Mum sometimes worries about him - looks at him strangely. It’s fine, though. I love him and I hope he lives forever. His name is Peaches. Well, that’s usually what I call him. He has two other names - Apricot and Mango. I lie in bed waiting for Peaches to arrive. He disappears sometimes. Runs off after lunch and doesn’t appear until late. Sometimes he doesn’t show up for a whole day. I used to get worried, but now I don’t mind him disappearing every now and then. He’s not a regular dog, I know that. Sometimes I feel like he came just to look after me. After all, he appeared on our doorstep the same day I was diagnosed. Maybe he has other little girls to look after too. So of course I don’t mind him going away for a while. He appears soon, bounding happily and leaping onto my bed. I let him curl up over my chest, and he starts slobbering all over me. I laugh because it tickles. When Peaches settles down, I hold his muzzle and peer at his face. There - his birthmark is just below his left ear. So this is Apricot. Peaches’ birthmark is at the corner of his left eye, and Mango’s over his nose. I give him a kiss on the tip of his snout. “Hello, Apricot,” I whisper. He looks at me like he understands. “Remember when I told you about my bad kidney? Well, I think I’m not going to last very long. Mum says I’ll get better, but I heard her crying last night.” Apricot whimpers and I feel bad. I pull him under my blanket and close my eyes. When I wake up, I’m alone. I’m not in bed, not even in my house. I’m standing, even though I am sure I had been in bed. I’m somewhere dark and shadowy. Miserable. In front of me is a river, its water still and dark like glass. There’s a boat and it carries passengers. They all look so sad. Somehow, I know I’m never going back home. I start shaking. “It’s okay, little girl,” someone says beside me. A man with a gentle smile. He holds a stick with two snakes crawling along it. “Get on the boat and you’ll meet your friend on the other side.” “My friend?” He smiles. “You’ll see. Just give the boatman your coin and he’ll take you.” I’m about to say I have no coin, but the man disappears. I feel something heavy drop inside my fist. I open it; there’s a coin lying on my palm. I do as he said. I can’t stop shaking. I want to go home, but I knew this would happen, didn’t I? Mum has told me, with tears in her eyes, what happens when people die. The boat hits the opposite bank and very familiar faces greet me. Three dogs - no, one dog with three heads! I run to him and hug the head in the middle. He has the birthmark at the corner of his left eye - he must be Peaches. I knew Peaches and Apricot and Mango were one dog! Mum and Dad never believed me; they thought I was making up stories about their birthmarks changing places. Peaches speaks to me. “Hello, little friend.” I laugh. “We wanted to be sure that you didn’t feel lonely. So we went to you when you fell sick and kept you company. Now you have friends here.” I laugh and hug each of them. I’m not shaking anymore.