Billie and Billy

Billie was almost out of breath when she reached the summit of Oak Hill.  Duke, her Great Dane companion who had excitedly run circles around her all the way up, took up a sentry position overlooking the farm below.  Beneath the eponymous oak Billie found her friend kneeling over a mound of freshly turned soil. A makeshift tombstone topped the tiny grave with the name “Hoppi” scratched onto the flattest surface.

“Whatcha doin' Billy?”  she asked.

The other Billy wiped his moistened eyes on the sleeve of his right arm. “I’m having a funeral dummy. What’s it look like I’m doin'?”

“I don’t know. Never been to a funeral before,” she replied quietly. “Who died?”

“My frog Hoppi.”

“I don’t think you spelled it right,” she added.

“It’s a name doofus, you can spell anyway you want. His name was spelled this way.”

Billie thought for a moment and then understood why Billy’s turtle was named Shelli and his dog Barki. Her musings were interrupted by her friend’s muffled sob .

“He meant a lot to you didn't he? How did he die”

"He was old in frog years. Things die when they get old." Billy said.

"My grandpa died before I was born. He wasn't old," Billie whispered. "I don't think I like funerals."

"Me neither. But it's what people do. It's what they did when my daddy died." Billy said standing. He slowly started down the hill.

"Hey let's promise not to go to each other's funeral. I don't want to be that sad.I don't want to think that I can't play with you ever again," Billie said. She ran to catch up.

"Deal," he said with a half sigh.

Billie looked back at the summit. She saw Duke digging at Hopi's grave. She decided not to tell Billy.