Jamie buried his face in the puppy’s fur. “What’s his name?” “I figured you’d pick it.” Jamie thought for a moment. “Nibbles,” he said. “Because he already tried to eat my shoelace.” From that day on, everything began to shift. Nibbles padded behind Jamie like a loyal shadow, curled against him at night, and filled their little home with noise again — the good kind.
The kind with thumping paws and wet nose kisses and bark-laughs in the hallway. Jamie had never known love like this before. The kind of love that followed you around the house, nibbled at your shoelaces, and waited outside the bathroom door. Nibbles, his tiny golden puppy, had turned every corner of his quiet world into a game of joy.
In the days that followed, Jamie and Nibbles became utterly inseparable. Every morning, Jamie woke to find Nibbles already waiting at the foot of his bed, tail thumping against the sheets. They played, napped, and learned each other’s habits with a kind of quiet devotion only children and animals seem to understand.
One afternoon, Jamie sat cross-legged on the living room floor with Nibbles asleep in his lap. He looked up at his dad, who was sorting bills at the table, and asked, “Do you think I could take him to the zoo?”