A boy and his dog

This work has been ported over and slightly revised from my Deviantart page. The original, along with other un-ported works can be found at

 When I was young, I didn't have many friends. I was an outcast, playing sports but never being popular or talented enough to become part of the group. When I was home I used games to preoccupy the time that I couldn't spend hanging out with people or talking on the phone. With my father always working we had to stay at the daycare 7 days a week, and while the people there were nice I really only had one or two friends I could play with. They both had moms and didn't need to go to the daycare every day like I did.

     When my father met Maria, I can't say for sure that there was ever any true love. He had three children that needed to be taken care of, and she needed a place to stay. When she first moved in, she was one of the nicest people I'd ever met. She would read to me and tuck me in at night like a real mom would. I still prayed for Nancy every night, kneeling beside my bed praying that God would let her know that I was going to grow up and do big things in my life.

     The next best thing that could have happened since we could finally be home was getting a dog. I had begged my father for one my whole life, but his long hours and our ages prevented us from being able to responsibly take care of any pets. He was a purebred golden retriever puppy, sold to us by one of my dad's bosses. For $500 my dad had bought would become my best friend and the most loyal companion I ever have known. We all sat around the kitchen table and named him Lucky. The very first thing he did when we brought him home was relieve himself on the living room carpet.

     I was in love. As energetic and bold as he was, I was never more happy to have someone to play with. We couldn't afford most of the luxuries our friends had but I was provided endless amusement by Lucky's wily charms. We did all the things a happy pair such as us could, catching sticks and laying in the sun on a lovely summer afternoon. I could fall asleep with his tiny golden body in my arms and wake up to kisses on the face. During our many trips to New York to see my grandfather I would clutch my pillow tight hoping he was all right in the kennel.

     As he grew from a child to a young adult, so did I. I would sit with him on the porch during thunderstorms and talk about Nancy, the future, and the meaning of life. If I failed a test or someone made fun of me at school he would always be waiting for me when I arrived home. I could talk about all the problems and evil in the world and he would lay with me and soak it all in. He never judged me for my hormonal rants about girls I would never speak to or laugh at me for being afraid of heights and snakes. My friends loved him and he was always a good sport with little children. He was my cuddly friend, big for a retriever but with the soul of an angel. Our innocence was boundless, marred only by one horrible night where a firework set him off and he ran into the woods. We didn't find him until the next day, paws bloodied and mind frenzied. I was scared that I had lost my best friend and had already printed out missing fliers to help locate him. I held his head in my lap the whole way to the vet and cried myself to sleep that night knowing he would be going through surgery. He came out fine, and I was happy to be able to help him do his daily business with his paws all stitched up. We were both growing and learning about the pains that life can bring us, yet we weren't the only ones changing.

     As the years passed Maria and my father had grown distant, arguing non-stop and throwing things across the house at each other. The family was split but as the neutral party I tried to understand what was wrong on both sides. Maria appreciated my comfort and entrusted me to take care of lucky while she was taking her classes at college. She had graduated from Lackawanna Community College and moved on to East Stroudsburg so she could become a nurse and provide for us more than my disabled father could. Around this time I was a sophomore in high school, single and unappreciative of the world I had to deal with. I whined constantly to Lucky, yelled at him as I became increasingly upset, and came home from work forgetting to feed him his dinner. Everybody in my world had shut the door on me, as my brothers and father saw me as an enemy for occasionally siding with Maria in arguments and taking presents from her. My friends weren't interested in my negativity and only spared me crude jokes about suicide. I had no idea how bad things could actually get.

     Just before summer came, I was disconnected. I quit my job out of rage for no one appreciating me and the internet was turned off since I could no longer afford to pay the bill. Next we lost our hot water and ability to use the stove. My brothers' friends would gladly swoop in to help but I was left alone to toil in my own self-pity. I had ignored my constant friend, always coming up to me in my misery with a smile, wanting only for me to be the happy child I was once more. The summer was trudging onward and I found myself seeking solace in his warm heart again. He shied away from me, afraid of my screaming tirades and violent actions. No one was ever home except me and my friend, and even now I had brought myself so low as to scare him away. I had found my joy in a girl that made my heart sing more than anything I'd ever known, and I soon forgot about my lost closeness to Lucky. I came home singing, walking right past him raving about how I'd finally found my princess. I no longer needed his comfort to survive in my cruel world. Little did I realize my time with him would be far shorter than my fairytale love story.

     Maria was finally divorcing my father, moving away to her college to be rid of him and the state of disarray we lived in. She came up and asked me to make a decision that I took far too lightly. I agreed with her that we couldn't take care of Lucky because of our current financial issues, as well as none of us being home now that we all had things to do. I told her we could find him a new home nearby so he would be able to enjoy himself and receive occasional visits from us. I didn't help with this process at all, assuming all would work out while I was living in my euphoria. Come the ides of August, and as I avoid the rain waiting for my ride after band practice Maria shows up to bid farewell to me. She had my forgotten friend in the back, and said this would be the last time I would see him. I cried into his thick fur as I wished him the best of luck with a family that could properly care for him, and said I'd never forget him as long as I lived. She drove off into the storm and I walked back to my friends, my tears hidden by the pouring rain.

     Thanksgiving that year, we went to eat at a friend's house who had a working stove and hot water. That was the night our house would burn down, a tale for another day. As I recalled my memories of home I realized how horrible a wish to have Lucky back would have been. I was right, we couldn't take care of him... but he was my friend. I was still alone in that horrid home, with only the voice of my new found angel to sing away my misery as I tried to sleep. I had no one to cuddle with, to lick me on the face and steal my sandwiches. I knew that if I had changed my mind in an attempt to keep him close to me that he would have died in there with everything else I had. I had woken up from a dream world where I was only concerned with what I wanted, and what I felt still brings me to tears even as I write this. I had done the right thing, I just didn't want to believe it had to be that way.

     Nothing is worse than wanting something so badly only to see it blow up in your face in an explosion of guilt. My desire to have my friend back only reminded me of how little control I have over this world, no matter what I think I can do.

     I just... I hope he's happy. I will never see him smile again, hear his bark, or feel his soft fur. But I will keep my promise to him to hold him in my heart forever.

Author's Note

My purpose is some form of inspiration, I do not write for the purpose of venting. This is understood to be part of a series of stories about my life and characters such as Nancy and Maria are purposely left directly unidentified.