He was forever blazing. He wanted to be the Good Boy, he really did. He loved to play with sticks and settle into campfire’s. He did his best to keep his human warm, he did his bet to keep them happy.



But he day he played too rough, his human got hurt. He was called a bad dog, he was a bad boy, a monster, something to be thrown away or put out.



He could not cry, he could only bow his head in shame, his pain that he hurt his human far greater than the water they were about to throw on him. He felt he deserved it, after all. He had tried his hardest but it wasn’t enough. . .



He couldn’t be a Good Boy anymore.