This is a re-write of an imagined discovery. I died in the woods near my house. The four dogs who lived there; Ranger, Shadow, Dillon, and Chief found me. Each of the dogs weighed over one hundred pounds. Ranger and Shadow were brothers, Dillon a yellow lab, and Chief a Samoyed/Golden Retriever mix. Quite a gang but all very gentle; as gentle as they were rowdy to meet new friends. Here it is.
BACK TO THE EARTH
The dogs found him. As if by a quartet of tornadoes, the peace he’d been enjoying was ripped away. He was made to endure a huffing and snuffing and cold-nosed greeting by four of the largest canines he’d ever been alive with. Huge paws and heads all arrived at once. His carcass and the surrounding forest floor were examined with hurried care. Every item was inspected and cataloged. Two of the dogs were litter mates and one of them was the pack alpha. There was an older dog which made a slow and studied survey of everything the others were missing but he was primarily looking for things to eat.
The youngest of the pack was seriously dashing about searching for enemies, intruders, and any other creatures that may need to be redirected or otherwise straightened out. His behavior spoke volumes but it wasn’t clear what message he was trying to convey. He was busy checking and rechecking everything that was already known by the two siblings who were quietly investigating the carcass. When the alpha had learned enough, he trotted away toward new adventures and the others followed.
G. M. Goodwin
19 June 2016
Playing Fair and Being Kind 
I like it. I like the idea of dog companions sniffing out your corpse, then trotting off indifferently. Dogs know; death happens. Though there are certainly plenty of stories of dogs in mourning for their human companions
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Precisely, Tracy! You got it. When Shadow died, I took Ranger to see him. Less than a sniff and on he went. The dogs loved me but what the hey. They move on. You’re right. Thanks!