Eko: For a brief time I served in a small parish in England. Every Sunday after mass I would see a young boy waiting at the back of the church. And then one day the boy confessed to me that he had beaten his dog to death with a shovel. He said that the dog had bitten his baby sister on the cheek and he needed to protect her. And he wanted to know whether he would go to hell for this.  I told him that God would understand. That he would be forgiven as long as he was sorry. But the boy did not care about forgiveness. He was only afraid that if he did go to hell, that dog would be there waiting for him

Locke: Anyway, about 6 months after Jeannie's funeral this golden retriever comes padding up our driveway, walks right into our house, sits down on the floor, and looks right at my mother, there on the couch. And my mother looks back at the dog. After about a minute of this, of them both staring at each other like that, my mother burst into tears. Beautiful dog, no tags, no collar, healthy, and sweet. The dog slept in Jeanie's old room, on Jeanie's old bed and stayed with us until my mother passed 5 years later. Then, disappeared back to wherever it was she came from in the first place.

Kate: So, you're saying the dog was your sister?

Locke: Well, that would be silly. But my mother thought it was, thought that Jeanie had come back to tell her the accident wasn't her fault, let her off the hook