Once upon a time I had a dog.
His name was rebel and he was awesome.
He was big, fluffy, and had a raggedy leather collar.
He was brave, kind, and loyal to a fault.
He wasn't the brightest, but he wasn't a complete idiot.
He made his mistakes, but he always tried to make up for them in his own way.
I loved him.
One day he ran away.
My mom had gotten me another one, but things aren't quite the same.
The hugs aren't quite as warm.
He isn't quite as friendly as the old dog.
He tears things up.
But when he tries to make up for it, it's not in the same way the old dog would.
I used to go exploring deep into the woods with my old dog.
The new one won't go as far.
We used to run around and cause mischief.
Trouble was practically our shadows and we often found ourselves caught up in it.
Now I'm followed by loneliness.
We used to gaze at the stars.
Now I look at them all alone.
I miss my dog.
I wish he'd hurry up and come home.
