Charley talked to the dogs for a while, getting to know them all by name.
There were two beagles, Molly and Trixie. Trixie was the smaller. There were three terriers, Jock, Angus and Steve, all black. Thge other five were mongrels. Tank was a burly labradoodle, Daisy was something like a yorkshire terrier. Kent and Maurice were spotty. Flossy had masses of hair, including what looked like a beard.
Charley, despite himself, found the dogs fascinating. He found it a little strange that they could talk, however.
'There's a reason for that,' Molly said. 'It's sort of like a compensation for becoming a ghost. I imagine you can walk through walls now, is that right?'
'Well, yes,' Charley said, scratching at his head. 'That's what happens when people die.'
'Why would a dog want to walk through a wall?' Angus said, chasing his tail. 'We'd rather talk.'
'Although,' Daisy said, somewhat wistfully, 'it would be nice to be able to move around. We can't cross the river you see, so we can't go anywhere.'
The other dogs nodded their heads sadly.
'That's true,' one said.
'I'd love to be able to chase a rabbit again.'
'Oh don't, don't talk about rabbits.'
'I miss chasing things.'
Charley, only half listening, gazed out over the river.
'So... what do I do now?'