Published: 2025-09-24

It was already past 9:00 PM and Timmy was not yet in bed. He knew that if his aunt caught him reading comic books he would be in trouble, thus he closed the torn out Superman issue he had already read dozens of times. He petted his dog Bobby and kissed the picture of his mother, goodnight. He kept the picture next to his bed at all times. Moments later his aunt walked down the corridor and peeking through the door saw him sleeping placidly.

Timmy's room was no bigger than a closet. It was bare and humid, but Timmy didn't mind. He was glad to have a bed to rest in and a window to look at the sky. He didn't asked for anything else.

Although small, Timmy shared his room with Bobby, his best friend and canine companion. Since his aunt wasn't fond of the animal Timmy had to sneak it into the house. More than once he got in trouble due to Bobby's incessant barking in the middle of the night. Still, running the risk of being grounded was worth it as long as he had Bobby's company.

The sky's dark blue gave way to an orange dawn. Timmy fought to keep his eyes closed but the sun rays that seeped through the window made him see red no matter how tight he shut his eyes. Morpheus had abandoned him. He sat on the edge of the bed and said good morning to his mother. His messy hair reflected of the picture frame to which he responded by running his hand through it. His hand reached for the floor as if trying to pick up something, "Come here boy," he said, but he couldn't reach Bobby. He looked under the bed but Bobby was not there either. There was not many places for a dog to hide in the small room. Timmy feared his aunt had found it and took it out while he slept, and that as a result of this he would be punished. He put on some clothes, took a deep breath, and went to the kitchen, where his aunt was making breakfast.

"Good morning, aunt."
"Good morning, Timmy. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, aunt."

She extended her arms and tended to the stove, the blender, the toaster, all at the same time with the ease of an octopus. Timmy looked through the window, hoping to see his care-free friend running in the backyard, but there was no sign of it.

"Um— aunt, have you seen Bobby?"
"Bobby? You mean the dog? I’ve told you I don't want you playing with that stray dog, it may be rabid."
"Yes, I know, aunt. It's just that he was next to my bed before I went to sleep and—"
"You took that flea-ridden animal inside the house again? How many times do I have to tell you, it is not welcomed in here."
"But, aunt—"
"No buts! Now eat your breakfast. After that you'll take the garbage out and then you'll clean your room. You're grounded."

She slid a plate with a piece of toast and scrambled eggs up to him. As Timmy ate his worry grew bigger and bigger. If his aunt hadn't taken the dog out, then what happened to it? It was improbable it left by itself. All doors where closed. Maybe it jumped through the open window. That couldn't be. It was an old dog, it was not athletic anymore.

Timmy finished his breakfast and grabbing the big bag of garbage made his way to the front of the house where the garbage cans were. As he pushed the bag down into the can he heard barking coming from the alley, “Bobby!” He said, and ran towards the sound, but there alley was deserted. Maybe it was his imagination. Timmy looked through the window; his aunt was busy vacuuming the floor. If he got back into the house he would be forced to clean his room while his friend was missing. The thought filled him with sadness, and he ran.

He walked the neighborhood streets, calling for the dog, asking the neighbors if they had seen it, but wherever he went, no matter who he asked, nobody had seen it. He went to the park and the animal shelter, he even looked in people’s backyards, but he had no luck.

It was starting to get dark; his feet ached and his stomach rumbled, he somehow had spent all day looking for Bobby. His aunt would be furious when he finally returned home; he ignored being grounded to find his friend and in the end he couldn't even achieve that. Timmy sat in the curb and brought his head to his knees. He had lost the only friend he had. He was alone. His tears fell and disappeared into the dark asphalt. A bark behind him made him raise his head. “Bobby?” He got up and ran towards the sound. This was not his mind playing tricks on him, it was Bobby, he knew it, he could feel it. The aching in his feet was gone, he felt no hunger in that moment, all he knew was he should run and ran he did. After much running he found himself in front of a ten-foot tall brick wall; it was a dead-end. He fell to his knees. It was Bobby barking, he was sure, it could not have been his imagination. He stood up, decided to go home, and turned back. There it was, it was Bobby, wrapped in a blinding white light. Timmy covered his eyes with his forearm.

“Bobby? Is that really you?”

Was this too hallucination?

“My child,” said Bobby, “you don’t need me anymore. You have grown. Life will be hard, but you have your aunt, she is trying her best.”
“But I don’t want you to go, Bobby. Please don’t go.”
“You’ll be all right, my child.”

Timmy ran towards Bobby and hugged him with all his might. The blinding light disappeared, and so did Bobby. Timmy found himself kneeling, holding nothing but air in his arms. He looked at his hands in disbelief, and some of Bobby’s hair was in between his fingers.

He ran home and hugged his aunt. He cried his heart out while she caressed his hair.

THE END.