Page 14 of Unexpected Hero

With my eyes closed, I picture my room. I see my bed beside me, right over there.My pillow is on top of the covers. It smells gross, but at least it’s soft. My gray sheet is also on the bed.

I remember when my dog used to lay on the bed with me. The real dog. Not the stuffed one I have now.

He was a good boy. My only friend.

But sometimes, he barked, and Daddy hates loud noises. It’s better for Daddy if I’m silent. So I tried to teach the dog to be quiet like me.

My dog was soft and had black fur. I liked to rub his long ears between my fingers.

I miss him so much.

Daddy took him away because I was naughty.

I didn’t mean to be bad. I always try to be a good boy. A brave boy for Daddy.

But I don’t remember what I did wrong that day. Daddy was very, very mad at me. No dinner before bed, and I had to be very quiet all night. He said that if I talked, my dog would be gone in the morning.

I believed him too. He kicked my dog once. After that, he hid in my closet when Daddy was home. I went in there with him so he wouldn’t be nervous.

So I promised Daddy I wouldn’t talk that night. If I stayed quiet, I would protect my dog.

He needed me to take care of him. No one else could do it but me. I loved him so much, and he loved me too. I think, but I don’t know.

Daddy says it’s hard to love me. I don’t know why.

Maybe I am a bad boy.

I must have been too loud that night or been naughty in another way. My dog was gone when I woke up.

I cried a lot that day.

Daddy spanked my bottom with his belt really hard. He said it was to make me a tougher boy. A brave boy who doesn’t cry and whine. Especially about dogs.

So I’m very brave now.

If I was a better boy before, maybe my real live dog would still be with me.

But I didn’t protect him good enough.

“I promise I’ll protect you better,” I whisper as I hug my stuffed doggy.

Wherever my real dog is now, I hope he isn’t hurt or sad.

When I think about him, I wish Daddy would have let me give him a name before he took him away. He said dogs don’t deserve names. That seems mean. He was such a good boy, and I think he deserved a good name. Maybe I would have called him Cuddles because he was good at giving me those.

Sometimes, he would let me lay my head on his furry belly. He would put his arm around me like a hug.

Mommy used to give me hugs. I don’t know where she went, but I hope she comes back soon. I loved her hugs. She held my hand a lot too. No one holds my hand anymore. Or gives me hugs. She was sleeping on the floor the last time I saw her.

One day, I asked Daddy where she went, and he smacked my face so hard. I cried because of how much it hurt. Then Daddy got even madder because I was crying. He kept yelling that I needed to stop being a little baby and toughen up.

That’s why I’m a big, strong boy now.

I only wish I could remember what I did wrong on the last night I had my dog because I never want to do that bad thing again. Next time, Daddy might take my stuffie.

I squeeze him tighter. “I’ll remember what I did wrong so I can protect you. Practice makes perfect. That’s what my teacher says. So I’ll keep practicing at remembering until I figure it out.”

Back to the game, and then I can get a waffle.

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