A New Friend

I hung against a wire fence, my beady eyes watching them miss time after time. How many? It's hard to know, in the Sleep. Everything sort of blurs together. We stay in a state of torpor, until awakened under the grasp of a human hand. Then the world comes alive, full of colour. In the Belonging.

I was vaguely aware of her, tottering towards me in her chunky trainers, looking up at me through stodgy spider-lashes. Batting them at the tall, pimply streak of wee she was dragging around with her like a sullen puppy. She pointed with a long pink talon, grinned a metal grin, her real blush hidden under layers of powder a shade too dark for her skin

The boy flexed his fists, gave himself a little shake. No pressure, son.

He did it! He won me, and won her, and the squishy thing he seemed so keen to try. I was discarded briefly in a corner of the messy room. I could wish for the Sleep again so I didn't have to listen to it. But no matter. At least it was just the once, and not for very long.

I lived a while, pride of place on her pillow. Her friends were very impressed with me. She tweaked me, smirking, telling the story of where I'd come from.

But it didn't last. When she found out what he'd done - or rather, who else he'd done - she grabbed me off the pink bedspread. Those rosy claws digging into my fur in hot anger. Boybands with expensive smiles and floppy fringes cartwheeled in front of my gaze for a moment and then she stuffed me under her arm and marched me out and down the road, to where Gangly Pimply stood.

There were tears, and some shrieking, and she threw me at the boy's head. The boy ducked, I bounced, the row raged. He picked me up and proffered me, she snatched me and threw me again, turning on that chunky heel and stomping away. The boy yelled something, but, abandoned, I was already slipping back into the Sleep.

Here I am. The world has gone grey. Colour almost stirred when a boot caught me and sent me spinning across the pavement, and again when a thoughtful woman righted me and set me against the Bangladeshi restaurant window.

At least it hasn't rained. I'm hardly dirty. Barely used, you might say. Used less, I think, than these humans seem to use each other.

Time drips by. It goes funny in the Sleep. We are never sure whether it's been minutes or hours, or even days.

What's this? A pair of shoes is stopping. If I had a heart inside my chest, and not just between my paws, maybe it would be swelling with hope and beating faster to the rhythm of choose me, please, choose me.

"Ted-deeeee!" comes the childish wail from a bobble hat in the push chair.

"Oh, honey, you don't want that tacky old thing," says the messy-bun-sensible-coat. "Anyway, it's been on the ground, it's dirty!"

"Ted-deeeee!"

"Tell you what, Teddy can ride in the bottom of the pushchair, OK? Maybe I can put him through the washing machine at home. What do you think? Or maybe Luna would like him. You've got lots of teddies, haven't you, sweetie, but Luna doesn't have any anymore does she? She must be very sad. Shall we let her have this one?"

"Luna Teddeee!" Bobble Hat agrees. Now time, sound and colour come back fully because I Belong again at last. I wonder what Luna is like. Will she cuddle me?

I watch the world zip by at ankle height and it doesn't take long at all for me to arrive at my new home. I can't wait to meet my new friend.

The keys jangle and Messy Bun wrestles the pushchair in through the door. Bobble Hat is babbling away excitedly. I think I can hear Luna waiting for us down the hallway in the kitchen. I can hear a noise like claws scrabbling on the floor.

Messy Bun is a busy sort of person. She lets my new friend out on to the grass, unclips the straps from Bobble Hat and lifts it down from the pushcair. Hurry! I can hardly contain my stuffing. She switches the kettle on, and reaches for me at last. My fur tingles delightedly at the warmth of her touch. She whistles.

"Luna! Luuuunaaaaaaaa! What's this? Watsis? Whosagoodgirl, watsis? D'you want it? Here!"

I sail through the air, the blue sky twirling above me, and my new very best friend bears (sorry) down on me at last, mouth open.

Her mouth is pink and white and wet and sharp, and the last thing I know is the laughter of Messy Bun and Bobble Hat as I discover why poor, sad little Luna doesn't have any teddies.

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Quick Author's Note:

I wrote this for the Misplaced Challenge, which you can read about here:

I promised no more dog stories until February, but that would leave me too close to the deadline and I didn't want to miss it! SORRY NOT SORRY.

Thank you for reading!