The NaPoWriMo prompt couldn’t be more appropriate.

My husband had a dream a few nights ago, more vivid than any dream he had ever had before. In the dream, he walked into the kitchen where I was preparing a meal. The children were in and out, talking. He stopped in surprise. Finbar was lying at my feet, long nose resting on his paws, his ears raised in recognition.
“I can see Finbar!”
I replied, “He’s always there, but only we can see him.”
“Not the children?”
I shook my head. “Only us.”
Husband crouched down and stroked him, and the touch ran through the dream and tingled in his waking fingers, the silky-smooth hair of his head and ears, the longer, coarser hair of his neck and flanks.
“He never left,” I said.

That same morning, I checked up on our application with the rescue association, for two friends that…