The boy, trying to catch the dog, pet it. Frightened, hurt. Why won't he come to me?
The beagle, avoiding his hands, jumping out of reach with puzzled barks. What is this thing that looks like a human but doesn't smell like one?
That's how it is for domestic animals in the afterlife -- they can smell death on all the humans and they never get used to it.
Come here, boy, it's only me.
The dog runs back into the darkness.