Jimmy yawned and shoved the sheet aside. Two big, furry paws dangled over the bed edge, pads and all. He stared. Those were definitely not his fingers.
He rolled off the mattress with a THUMP that rattled the nightstand. He opened his mouth to say 'What?' A loud, wet WOOF slammed out instead.
Jimmy shuffled to the hallway mirror. A big dog stared back — ears flopping, a goofy open-mouthed grin. He tilted his head at his own reflection.
He SLAMMED his snout flat against the glass. CLONK. 'Bernard! Come!' Mom's voice boomed from downstairs. His tail was already wagging before he could stop it.
A whole week blurred past. The red ball splattered into backyard mud with a glorious squelch. He dug it up. Buried it. Dug it up again.
Mom's fingers scratched behind his ears, and his whole body went slack. A long, rumbling snore rolled across the sunbeam on the living room rug.
Each day, the wagging got a little harder to stop. By Friday, his tail thumped the hardwood like a metronome. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Small bare feet climbed up beside the dog bed. His sister pressed her cheek against his furry neck. 'You still smell like you, Jimmy,' she whispered.
His tail thumped the floor once. Just once. Then it stopped. Through the window, the sky shifted from black to pale gold.
Morning light spilled across the yard. Jimmy stretched all four paws wide, ears flopping. He nosed the glass door. His tail wags. The red ball waits in the grass.