Preface
When I first read Charlotte's Web as a middle school student, I was deeply moved by the warm friendship between Wilbur and the spider Charlotte. That simple yet powerful story, filled with kindness and courage, made me realize how beautiful love and companionship can be in the world. Now, as a college student majoring in English education, I want to share a similar heartfelt tale—one about a little girl named Annie and a stray dog called Lucky.
This book has around 10,000 words, telling a heartwarming story of two lonely souls who find hope and belonging in each other. Annie is a quiet and gentle girl who often feels left out at school; she loves drawing but rarely shares her works with others. One rainy autumn afternoon, while walking home from school, she spots Lucky—a thin, scared stray dog shivering under an old banyan tree, its fur matted with mud. Annie takes out her leftover bread and gently feeds the dog, and from that moment, a special bond forms between them. They become inseparable friends: Annie talks to Lucky about her school worries, and Lucky listens quietly, nuzzling her hand with its cold nose.
I drew great inspiration from Charlotte's Web, but this story is my own creation. It centers on kindness, friendship, and the incredible power of love. In a world that can sometimes feel cold and busy, small acts of care—like feeding a stray animal or offering a listening ear—can make a huge difference. Through Annie and Lucky's adventures, from exploring the park together to comforting each other through hard times, I hope readers can feel the warmth of being loved and learn to cherish and care for those around them, whether they are humans or animals.
Writing this book was a joyful and meaningful journey for me. I spent many weekends typing away in the library, imagining Annie and Lucky's daily lives: the way Annie braids small flowers into Lucky's fur, or how Lucky waits patiently outside her classroom every afternoon. I hope when you read it, you can smile at their sweet, simple moments and maybe even shed a tear at their touching struggles. This is a story for everyone who believes in the beauty of love, and I’m so happy to share it with you.
Thank you for picking up this book. May it bring you as much joy, warmth, and hope as it brought me while writing it.
Chapter1. Lonely,lonely,lonely......
How to describe Annie's life?It seems that for everyone, a little girl's childhood is the most carefree. From Annie's day-to-day life, it seems to be the case: Every morning, her mother prepares breakfast for her, her father takes her to school, there are many stuffed dolls, and she can also go to the amusement park every weekend. At school, the teachers and classmates all love this sweet and lovely little girl.However, in Annie's mind, there seemed to be a constant voice telling her that she was lonely. Yes, it's loneliness. Although her parents usually accompany her, most of the time they are still busy with their work.Annie’s loneliness wasn’t loud or dramatic; it was a soft, persistent shadow that lingered in the corners of her seemingly perfect life. Every evening, after her father dropped her off from school, the house would fall into a hush. Her mother would be in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while scrolling through work emails, and her father would retreat to his study, typing away at his laptop. Annie would sit on the living room carpet, surrounded by her stuffed dolls—bears, rabbits, and a teddy bear named Mr. Cuddles—but none of them could respond to her chatter about school. She’d tell them about the math test she aced, the butterfly she saw in the playground, and the funny joke Lily told during recess, but the dolls only stared back with button eyes, silent as always.
At school, her classmates liked her for her sweet smile and kind words, but no one really knew her. During lunch breaks, she’d sit with a group of girls, listening to them talk about their weekend sleepovers and family trips to the beach. Annie wanted to join in, to tell them how she’d spent Saturday evening reading a book alone on her bedroom floor while her parents worked late, but she never did. She was afraid they’d think she was strange, that her “perfect” life wasn’t as perfect as it seemed.
Even at bedtime, loneliness followed her. Her mother would tuck her in, kiss her forehead, and say “Goodnight, my sweet girl” before hurrying back to her laptop. Annie would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, and wonder what it would be like to have a parent sit with her, read her a story, and ask her about her day. She’d hug Mr. Cuddles tightly, as if the teddy bear could fill the empty space in her heart.
Annie’s life looked ideal from the outside—loving parents, nice toys, and friends at school—but deep down, she felt invisible. She was surrounded by people, yet she’d never felt more alone. All she wanted was someone to see her, to really hear her, and to make her feel like she belonged. But for now, that quiet loneliness remained her secret, hidden behind her bright smile and cheerful demeanor.
Chapter 2 The Birthday Party and a Quiet Wish
Saturday afternoon sun streamed through the maple trees as Annie skipped toward Lucy’s house. It was Lucy’s ninth birthday and she invite many friends.Annie is one of them.She held a handcrafted bracelet in her palm, woven with Lucy’s favorite pink and blue threads, her heart fluttering with excitement.
When she rang the doorbell, it swung open immediately, revealing Lucy grinning from ear to ear. “Annie! You’re here!” Lucy pulled her inside, and Annie’s eyes widened at the sight: colorful balloons floated from the ceiling, a long table was covered with snacks and a towering birthday cake, and laughter echoed from the living room.But what caught her attention most was a boy around sixteen,who was helping Lucy hang a “Happy Birthday”.
“That’s my brother, Ethan,” Lucy whispered, tugging Annie toward him. “He’s home from college for the weekend!”
Ethan turned around, and his smile softened when he saw Annie. “You must be Annie—Lucy talks about you all the time. She says you’re the best artist in class.” His voice was warm, not hurried or distracted like the adults Annie usually knew.
Annie blushed, twisting the bracelet in her hands. “I… I made this for Lucy,” she mumbled.
Ethan’s eyes lit up. “That’s lovely.” He ruffled her hair gently, a small gesture that made Annie’s chest feel light.
The party unfolded in a blur of joy, but Annie’s focus kept drifting to Ethan. When Lucy struggled to blow out all the candles, Ethan knelt beside her, covering one of her hands with his to steady the lighter. When the other kids argued over who got the last cookie, he laughed and split it into equal pieces, making sure Annie got one. When Annie accidentally spilled juice on her dress,he fetched a wet cloth and helped her wipe it off, saying, “Don’t worry, these stains come out easily. I’ve done way worse when I was your age.”
He talked to her like she mattered. He asked about her favorite subjects at school, listened carefully when she rambled about her stuffed dolls, and even told her silly stories about his college roommate’s pet hamster. For the first time in a long while, Annie didn’t feel like she was just “there”—she felt seen. When they played musical chairs, Ethan pretended to trip so she could win. When they danced to a silly pop song, he spun her around gently, making her giggle until her cheeks hurt.
Lucy seemed so natural with him, yelling “Ethan, stop teasing!” when he stole a bite of her cake, then hugging him tightly a minute later. Annie watched them, a strange ache in her chest. Lucy didn’t have to pretend to be happy—she was happy, surrounded by someone who had time for her, who cared about her little joys and worries without checking their phone or rushing to work.
As the party ended, Annie hugged Lucy goodbye, then turned to Ethan. “Thank you for being nice to me,” she said quietly.
Ethan knelt down, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re a sweet kid, Annie. Come visit anytime—Lucy would love it, and I’d be happy to hear more about your dolls.” He handed her a small stuffed rabbit from the party favors, “For you. To add to your collection.”
Annie clutched the rabbit tightly as she walked home with her father. The car ride was quiet, her father on a work call, but Annie barely noticed. Her mind was filled with Ethan’s smile, Lucy’s laughter, and the feeling of being cared for without hurry.
That evening, after dinner, Annie found her mother sitting on the couch, folding laundry while glancing at her laptop. She took a deep breath and walked over, sitting beside her. The stuffed rabbit sat in her lap, a silent reminder of the afternoon’s happiness.
“Mom,” she said, her voice soft but clear, “why don’t I have a brother?”
Her mother paused, closing her laptop gently. She turned to Annie, her eyes warm but a little sad. She brushed a strand of hair from Annie’s face, her fingers light.
“Darling,” she said, her voice gentle as a lullaby.
Annie waited, her heart beating fast. She hoped for an answer—any answer—that would explain why her life felt missing a piece. But her mother just smiled, pulling her into a hug.She closed her eyes, clutching the stuffed rabbit, and wished with all her heart that someone would always have time for her—someone who would stay, listen, and make her feel like the most important person in the room.
Chapter 3 A Lucky Encounter on a Rainy Night
Ever since Lucy’s birthday party, the question “Why don’t I have a brother?” lingered in her mind like an unspoken sigh.So when Saturday morning arrived, Annie slipped on her floral jacket and told her mom she wanted to walk around the neighborhood alone—she needed some quiet to sort out the messy feelings swirling inside her.
She wandered aimlessly until she reached the edge of the forest near her house. The tall trees stood like silent guardians, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Annie sat on a fallen log, staring at the way sunlight filtered through the branches. She thought about Lucy and Ethan, how they teased each other and laughed so freely, and a lump formed in her throat. If she had a brother or sister, would she still feel this lonely when her parents were busy? Would someone stay up with her to read stories, or chase fireflies with her in the backyard?
Her thoughts were cut short by a sudden clap of thunder. Dark clouds rolled in quickly, covering the sun completely, and within minutes, fat raindrops started to fall. Annie yelped and scrambled to her feet, looking for shelter. Her eyes landed on a massive old oak tree with a wide, hollow trunk—perfect for hiding from the downpour. She squeezed inside, brushing off the moss and dry leaves from the rough bark, and let out a sigh of relief as the rain poured down harder outside, drumming against the tree.
Just as she settled in, a tiny, trembling whimper reached her ears. Annie froze—she wasn’t alone. She leaned forward, squinting into the dark corner of the tree trunk, and her heart skipped a beat. Huddled there was a small stray dog, its fur soaked and matted, clinging to itself like it was scared out of its wits. Its fur was a mix of golden and white, sticking to its thin body, and its big round eyes glistened with fear. A few blades of grass and clumps of mud clung to its front paws, and it whimpered again, a soft, pitiful sound that tugged at Annie’s heartstrings.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Annie whispered. She didn’t think twice—she slipped off her floral jacket, gently wrapped it around the shivering puppy, and pulled it close to her chest. The puppy was cold, so cold that Annie could feel it through her shirt, but it didn’t struggle. Instead, it nuzzled into her arms, seeking warmth.
The rain showed no sign of stopping, but Annie knew she couldn’t stay in the tree trunk forever. Her mom would start to worry, and besides, the puppy needed a drier, warmer place. There was just one problem—her mom had never let her have a pet before, saying they were too much responsibility. But as she looked down at the puppy’s big, scared eyes, Annie made up her mind. She would sneak it home and hide it in her closet.
Carefully, she held the puppy tightly against her chest, covering it with the jacket to shield it from the rain, and darted out of the tree trunk. The rain soaked her hair and clothes, making her shiver, but she ran as fast as she could toward home. She kept her head down, hoping no neighbors would see her, and let out a silent prayer that her mom wasn’t standing by the window.
Finally, she reached her front door, fumbled with the key, and slipped inside. She tiptoed up the stairs, avoiding the creaky step, and rushed into her bedroom. She closed the door quietly, then gently set the puppy down on her bed. It shook itself, sending tiny droplets of water flying, and looked up at her with those big, round eyes.
Annie quickly grabbed a towel from her bathroom and dried the puppy’s fur as gently as she could. The puppy wagged its tail slightly, letting out soft little whimpers that sounded more like thanks than fear. After a few minutes, it curled up on the bed, tired but warmer, and drifted off to sleep. Annie smiled, brushing a strand of wet fur from its face. She was so focused on the puppy that she didn’t hear the knock on her door.
“Annie? Are you home? I made you some hot milk to warm you up,” her mom’s voice called.
Annie’s eyes widened. She panicked, quickly picking up the sleeping puppy and tucking it into her closet—she left the door slightly ajar so it could breathe, then grabbed a sweater to cover the spot where the puppy had been lying. “Coming!” she called, smoothing her wet hair and opening the door.
Her mom handed her a mug of hot milk, frowning slightly. “You’re soaked! Why didn’t you wait for the rain to stop?”
“I… I didn’t want to get stuck outside,” Annie said, trying to sound casual. She took a sip of the warm milk, hoping her mom wouldn’t notice her nervousness.
Her mom shook her head, but there was a smile in her eyes. “Next time, take an umbrella. Now go change into dry clothes before you catch a cold.”
“I will, Mom. Thanks for the milk!” Annie said, hurrying to close the door.
Once her mom was gone, Annie rushed to the closet. She opened the door slowly, and the puppy lifted its head, looking at her. Then, something incredible happened—something Annie could never have imagined. The puppy opened its mouth, and a soft, sweet, and clearly human voice said: “Thank you, little human, for giving me warmth.”
Annie’s eyes went wide, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from gasping. She stared at the puppy in shock—did it just… talk? She must have been imagining things, right? Dogs couldn’t talk. But before she could say anything, there was another knock on the door.
“Annie? Did you hear something?” her mom called.
Annie’s heart raced. She looked at the puppy, and in that moment, it let out a normal, high-pitched “woof!”—just like any other dog. Annie let out a silent breath of relief. “No, Mom! Just me moving things around!” she called back.
When her mom walked away, Annie knelt down in front of the closet, her eyes still wide with amazement. “Did you… did you just talk to me?” she whispered.
The puppy tilted its head, its tail wagging gently. “Yes,” it said in that same soft, sweet voice. “Only you can hear me, though. I don’t know why—maybe it’s because you’re the first person who’s ever been kind to me.”
Annie couldn’t believe it. For the first time in weeks, the empty spot in her chest felt a little less empty. She reached out and stroked the puppy’s soft fur, and the puppy nuzzled her hand happily.
This was her secret. And somehow, Annie knew that this rainy day encounter was the start of something wonderful.
Chapter 4 Lucky: Our Secret Companion
The next morning, Annie woke up with a grin on her face. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the closet, opening the door slowly so she wouldn’t scare the puppy. To her delight, the little dog was already awake, sitting upright and wagging its tail gently. Its fur was dry now, fluffy and soft, and its round eyes sparkled with joy when it saw Annie.
“Good morning!” the puppy said in its sweet voice. “I slept so well—your jacket was like a warm cloud.”
Annie knelt down, her heart full of happiness. “I’m so glad,” she said. “I need to give you a name. What should I call you?” She thought for a moment, staring at the puppy’s bright eyes and the way it seemed to bring light into her room. “You’re the best surprise I’ve ever had. You must be my lucky charm… How about Lucky?”
Lucky’s tail wagged faster, hitting the floor with a soft “thump thump.” “I love it! Lucky is perfect. Thank you, Annie!”
Just then, Annie heard her mom’s footsteps in the hallway. She put a finger to her lips, “Shhh! Remember—only talk to me when we’re alone. To everyone else, you’re just a regular puppy, okay?”
Lucky nodded eagerly, as if it understood perfectly. When Annie’s mom knocked on the door and asked, “Ready for breakfast?” Lucky let out a tiny “woof” that sounded totally normal. Annie breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door, grinning at her mom.
“Come on, I’ll meet you downstairs,” her mom said, not noticing the puppy hidden in the closet.
Annie laughed, watching Lucky’s excitement. “You’re so cute,” she said. “Tell me about yourself, Lucky. Where did you come from?”
Lucky’s tail slowed down, and its eyes looked sad. “I don’t really know,” it said softly. “I was born on the streets, I think. My mom left when I was little, and I’ve been alone ever since.
Annie’s eyes filled with tears. She reached out and hugged Lucky tightly. “You have a home now,” she said firmly. “With me. I’ll never let you be alone again.”
Lucky nuzzled her neck, its soft fur tickling her skin. “I promise I’ll be the best friend you’ve ever had,” it said. “I’ll listen to you, and play with you, and never leave your side.”
For the first time, Annie felt like she could talk about all the things that had been bothering her. She told Lucky about Lucy and Ethan, how she envied the way Ethan looked out for Lucy, how she wished someone would pay attention to her little joys and worries without being in a hurry. She told Lucky about the nights she’d sat alone in her room, talking to her stuffed dolls because no one else had time to listen. She told Lucky how lonely she’d felt, even when she was surrounded by people.
Lucky listened quietly, its head resting on Annie’s lap. When she finished speaking, it lifted its head and licked the tears from her cheeks. “Loneliness is the worst feeling in the world,” it said gently. “I know it better than anyone. But you don’t have to feel that way anymore. I’m here now. Every morning, I’ll wake you up with a wag. Every afternoon, I’ll listen to your stories. Every night, I’ll sleep next to your bed and keep you safe. We’ll be a team—you and me.”
Annie smiled through her tears, scratching Lucky behind the ears. “A team,” she repeated. “I like that.”
Over the next few days, Annie and Lucky built a routine based on secrets and joy. Every morning, Annie snuck Lucky bowls of warm milk and leftover chicken from breakfast, making sure to wash the bowls thoroughly so her mom wouldn’t notice.
One afternoon, Annie came home feeling sad. She’d seen Lucy and Ethan flying a kite in the park, and Ethan had lifted Lucy up so she could reach higher, laughing as the kite soared into the sky. “I wish I had someone to do that with,” she told Lucky, sitting on her bed and pulling it into her lap.
Lucky licked her hand. “I can’t lift you up,” it said, “but I can do something else. Watch this!” It jumped off the bed and ran to the corner, where Annie’s colored pencils were scattered. It picked up a yellow pencil in its mouth and dragged it across a piece of paper, drawing a wobbly circle. Then it grabbed a blue pencil and added two big eyes and a smile. “It’s you!” it said proudly.
Annie laughed, wiping away her tears. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Thank you, Lucky.”
Lucky jumped back onto the bed, curling up next to her. “You don’t need a brother to be happy,” it said softly. “You just need someone who loves you for who you are. And I love you, Annie. More than all the treats in the world.”
Annie’s heart felt warm and full, like it was going to burst with happiness. She leaned down and kissed Lucky’s forehead. “I love you too, Lucky. You’re my best friend ever.”
Chapter 5 Mom’s Gentle Approval
Weeks passed, and Annie’s secret with Lucky only grew stronger. They were inseparable.But keeping Lucky a secret wasn’t easy. Annie’s face was always lit up with a smile, and she often found herself chuckling at Lucky’s silly comments when she was alone with her mom. Her mom noticed. One evening, while they were eating dinner, her mom looked at her and said, “You’ve been so happy lately, Annie. Is there something you want to tell me?”
Annie’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly shook her head, “No, Mom. I just… I’ve been enjoying school more, that’s all.” She took a big bite of her pasta, hoping to change the subject.
Her mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her. “Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you’re happy. You’ve been looking a little sad for a while.”
Annie felt a twinge of guilt. She hated lying to her mom, but she was terrified that if her mom found out about Lucky, she’d make her give it away. Lucky was her best friend—she couldn’t bear to lose it.
But secrets have a way of slipping out, no matter how hard you try to keep them. One Tuesday morning, Annie was running late for school. She’d spent extra time playing with Lucky, and now she was in a rush: she grabbed her backpack, kissed Lucky goodbye , and darted downstairs. In her hurry, she forgot to close her bedroom closet door all the way—it was left hanging open just a crack.
Lucky, curious as always, decided to explore the rest of the house. It had heard Annie’s mom moving around in the kitchen, and it wanted to see what she was doing. It slipped out of the bedroom, tiptoed down the stairs (as quietly as a little dog could), and peeked into the kitchen. There, on the counter, was a mug of hot milk—steaming and fragrant, just like the kind Annie gave it sometimes.
Lucky’s stomach rumbled. It had only had a small bowl of cereal that morning, and the milk smelled too good to resist. It crept closer, its tail wagging gently, and jumped up onto its hind legs to get a better look. But it lost its balance, and with a soft “thump,” it knocked the mug off the counter.
The milk spilled all over the floor, and the mug shattered into pieces. Lucky froze, its ears drooping. It knew it had done something wrong.
Annie’s mom rushed into the kitchen, attracted by the noise. When she saw the spilled milk, the broken mug, and the little golden-and-white dog standing next to it, her eyes widened. “What is this?” she said, looking at Lucky in surprise.
Annie, who had just remembered she’d forgotten her jacket and rushed back upstairs, heard the commotion. Her heart sank—she knew exactly what had happened. She ran into the kitchen, her face pale with fear. “Mom, I’m so sorry!” she cried, rushing to stand in front of Lucky, as if protecting it from her mom’s anger. “It’s my fault, not Lucky’s! I snuck her home and hid her, and I forgot to close the closet door. Please don’t be mad at her—she didn’t mean to!”
Annie’s mom stood there for a moment, looking at Annie and the little dog in her arms. She saw the tears on Annie’s face, the way she was holding Lucky like it was the most precious thing in the world, and the guilt melted away. She knelt down, her face softening, and reached out her hand gently. Lucky hesitated for a second, then nuzzled her palm with its wet nose.
Her mom smiled, a warm, gentle smile that made Annie’s heart feel light. “Well, she is quite adorable,” she said softly. She looked up at Annie, her eyes filled with understanding. “I should have known you were hiding something—you’ve been smiling so much lately. And honestly, I’ve been wondering when you’d ask for a pet. You’ve always been so kind to animals.”
Annie’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait… does that mean we can keep her?”
Her mom laughed, brushing a tear from Annie’s cheek. “Yes, we can keep her. But only if you keep your promise—you have to take responsibility for her. Feed her on time, take her for walks, and clean up after her messes. Deal?”
Annie nodded frantically, her tears now happy ones. “Deal! I promise, Mom! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She threw her arms around her mom, still holding Lucky tightly.
Chapter 6 Lucky’s Happy Magic
Even with Lucky by her side, Annie still found herself envying Lucy from time to time. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy—she was happier than she’d ever been—but seeing Lucy with Ethan still tugged at her heartstrings. Ethan would pick Lucy up to reach the highest books on the shelf, help her solve tricky math problems, and take her to the park every Sunday to fly kites. Annie had never had someone who did those things for her.
One Saturday afternoon, Annie and Lucky were sitting in the backyard, watching the birds fly by. Annie sighed softly, her eyes drifting to the park down the street. She could see Lucy and Ethan there, flying a bright red kite that soared high into the sky. Ethan was laughing as Lucy jumped up and down, clapping her hands when the kite climbed higher.
Lucky noticed Annie’s sad expression. It nuzzled her hand with its wet nose and said, “What’s wrong, Annie? You look sad again.”
Annie looked down at Lucky, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. I just… I saw Lucy and Ethan flying a kite. It looks like so much fun.”
Lucky tilted its head, its tail wagging slowly. “Do you wish you had a brother to fly kites with?” it asked gently.
Annie nodded, her voice quiet. “A little. It’s not that I don’t love having you as my friend—because I do, more than anything. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have someone older look out for me, you know? Someone who can lift me up and help me with things I can’t do alone.”
Lucky thought for a moment, then its eyes lit up. “Annie, happiness doesn’t have to come from having a brother,” it said excitedly. “I know a place that’s even more fun than flying kites! Want to go on an adventure with me?”
Annie’s curiosity was piqued. “An adventure? Where?”
“It’s a surprise!” Lucky said, jumping up and down. “But you have to promise to follow me, and not be scared of a little walk in the forest. Deal?”
Annie grinned, her sadness fading away. “Deal! Let’s go!”
She grabbed her jacket and a small bag of snacks (just in case), and followed Lucky as it trotted toward the forest edge. Lucky knew the woods well—after all, it had wandered there many times during its days as a stray. It led Annie along a narrow path, weaving through the trees and jumping over small streams. Annie held onto Lucky’s collar gently, laughing as they dodged low-hanging branches and stepped over fallen logs.
After about ten minutes of walking, Lucky stopped suddenly. “We’re here!” it said proudly.
Annie looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. They were standing in a clearing surrounded by trees, and the entire ground was covered in white dandelions. The sun was shining down, making the dandelion fluff glow like tiny stars. A light breeze blew, and hundreds of dandelion seeds floated through the air, dancing gently.
“It’s beautiful,” Annie whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. She’d never seen anything like it.
“I found this place when I was lost last winter,” Lucky said, sitting down next to her. “I hid here during a snowstorm. It’s my favorite spot in the whole world.”
Annie knelt down, gently touching a dandelion. The fluff was soft and light, like cotton. She picked one and blew softly—its seeds drifted away on the wind, and she laughed as they twirled into the distance.
Lucky jumped up, barking excitedly. It darted into the sea of dandelions, chasing a butterfly that fluttered past.They played for hours. Lucky taught Annie how to spot wild strawberries—small, red, and sweet—growing along the edge of the clearing. Annie picked a handful and shared them with Lucky, who licked the juice off his paws happily. Then Lucky had an idea: it used its paw to draw wobbly little footprints in the dirt.
“What’s that?” Annie asked, leaning down to look.
“That’s you!” Lucky said, pointing to a bigger footprint with its nose. “And that’s me!” It tapped a smaller footprint next to it. “See? We’re together.”
Annie’s heart felt warm. She used her finger to draw a heart around the two footprints. “Now we’re forever together,” she said with a smile.
“Thank you for bringing me here, Lucky,” she said softly. “This is the best day ever.”
Lucky looked up at her, its eyes shining. “I’m glad you like it. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need a brother to be happy. We can make our own fun, just the two of us.”
Annie nodded, leaning down to kiss Lucky’s forehead. “You’re right. I don’t need a brother. I have you. And this—” she gestured to the dandelion field, the trees, and the warm sun “—is better than any kite.”
When the sun started to set, painting the sky pink and orange, they headed home. Annie’s hair was messy, her clothes were covered in dandelion fluff and grass stains, and her cheeks were flushed from running and laughing. But she didn’t care—she felt free and happy, lighter than she had in a long time.
That night, as Annie lay in bed, Lucky curled up next to her, she thought about the dandelion field. She thought about the way the seeds danced in the wind, the taste of sweet wild strawberries, and the sound of Lucky’s happy barks. And for the first time, when she thought about Lucy and Ethan, she didn’t feel sad or envious. She felt grateful—grateful for Lucky, for the secret adventures they shared, and for the happiness that only her best friend could bring.
Lucky was right—happiness didn’t have to come from having a brother. It came from having someone who cared about you, who wanted to make you smile, and who would take you on amazing adventures just to see you happy. And Annie had that in Lucky.
As she drifted off to sleep, she heard Lucky’s soft voice whisper, “Sweet dreams, Annie. Tomorrow we can go on another adventure.”
Annie smiled, closing her eyes. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 7 The Special Wait at the School Gate
Ever since Annie started bringing Lucky home officially, their days fell into a warm, predictable rhythm. Mornings began with Annie feeding Lucky its kibble and sharing a bowl of warm milk—Lucky would sit patiently, its tail wagging softly as it waited for Annie to set down the bowl, and whisper “Thank you for breakfast, Annie!” before digging in. Then Annie would grab her backpack, give Lucky a quick hug, and head to school, while Lucky trotted to the window to watch her leave, barking a quiet “Have a good day!” that only Annie could hear.
But the best part of every day, for both Annie and Lucky, was the afternoon wait at the school gate. As soon as the clock struck three, Lucky would pace by the front door, its ears perked up and nose twitching with excitement. It could barely contain itself—every rustle of leaves outside, every passing bicycle, made it jump up, hoping it was Annie coming home.
“Calm down, Lucky,” Annie’s mom would say with a laugh, petting its head. “Annie will be home soon. Why don’t we walk to the school gate together? It’s nicer than waiting here alone.”
Lucky would wag its tail furiously, as if agreeing. So every afternoon, Annie’s mom would put a small leash on Lucky and they’d walk to the old locust tree standing right outside the school gate. That tree was their meeting spot—tall, with thick branches that provided shade in summer, and it had a gnarled trunk that Lucky loved to lean against.
As soon as they arrived, Lucky would plop down on the grass beneath the tree, its ears pressed tightly to the ground. Annie had once asked it why it did that, and Lucky had explained, “Dogs have super good hearing! I can listen for your footsteps, Annie. Even when you’re still far away, I can tell which ones are yours—they’re light and happy, just like you!”
Annie thought that was the sweetest thing. She loved imagining Lucky sitting there, ears to the ground, waiting just for her.
The school bell would ring, and soon the gate would swing open, releasing a flood of chattering children. Lucky would sit up straight, its eyes scanning the crowd eagerly. It would ignore the other kids who tried to pet it, its focus entirely on finding Annie’s familiar face.
And then—there she was. Annie would spot Lucky first, her face lighting up with a big smile as she pushed through the crowd. “Lucky!” she’d call, waving her hand.
Lucky would let out a series of excited barks and pull gently on the leash, wanting to run to her. As soon as Annie reached them, her mom would unclip the leash, and Lucky would dart forward, jumping up to nuzzle Annie’s face and wagging its tail so hard its whole body shook.
“Hey, girl,” Annie would say, kneeling down to hug Lucky tightly. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course I did!” Lucky would whisper, licking Annie’s cheek. “Tell me everything—how was school today? Did you learn something fun? Did Lucy share her snacks with you?”
Annie would sit on the grass under the locust tree, Lucky curled up in her lap, and tell her all about her day. She’d talk about how the teacher praised her drawing of a dandelion field (she’d drawn it just like the one Lucky took her to), how Lucy gave her a lemon-flavored candy that was sour but delicious, and how she’d aced her spelling test. She’d also share the small, silly frustrations—like how her pencil broke during math class, or how it rained at recess and they couldn’t play outside.
Lucky would listen carefully, its head tilted to the side, as if hanging on every word. When Annie talked about something happy, Lucky would bark softly in excitement; when she mentioned something sad or annoying, Lucky would lick her hand gently, as if to say “It’s okay, Annie. Tomorrow will be better.”
One afternoon, Annie came out of school looking a little upset. Her eyes were red, and she was dragging her feet. Lucky immediately sensed something was wrong. It ran to her, nuzzling her hand worriedly. “Annie, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”
Annie knelt down, burying her face in Lucky’s fur. “I fell down at recess,” she mumbled. “I was running to catch a butterfly, and I tripped over a rock. My knee hurts, and some kids laughed at me.”
Lucky’s ears drooped. “Oh, Annie, I’m so sorry,” it whispered. “Does your knee hurt a lot? And don’t listen to those kids—they’re just being mean. You’re brave for getting back up!” It licked Annie’s knee gently, as if trying to make the pain go away.
Annie smiled through her tears. “It hurts a little, but it’s better now that you’re here,” she said. “Thank you, Lucky. You always know how to make me feel better.”
Her mom handed Annie a band-aid from her purse. “Let’s put this on, and then we’ll go home and put some ice on it,” she said softly. “Those kids shouldn’t have laughed at you. Falling down is just part of being a kid.”
As they walked home, Annie held Lucky’s leash, and Lucky walked close to her side, keeping pace with her slower steps. “You’re my best friend,” Annie said quietly. “No one else listens to me like you do.”
“I’ll always listen to you, Annie,” Lucky whispered. “No matter what. Even if you just want to talk about the weather, I’ll be here.”
Another day, Annie was extra excited. She ran out of school, waving a piece of paper in her hand. “Lucky! Lucky! Look!” she shouted.
Lucky jumped up, barking happily. “What is it? What is it?”
“I won first prize in the school art contest!” Annie said, holding up the paper—a certificate with her name on it. “The teacher said my drawing of the dandelion field was the best in the whole grade!”
Lucky’s tail wagged so hard it knocked over a small pile of leaves. “That’s amazing, Annie! I knew you could do it!” it whispered excitedly. “You’re the best artist ever! I’m so proud of you!”
Annie hugged Lucky tightly, her face glowing with pride. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “If you hadn’t taken me to that dandelion field, I never would have had such a good idea for my drawing.”
Her mom smiled, taking a photo of Annie and Lucky with the certificate. “You two make such a great team,” she said. “I’m proud of you, Annie.”
As the weeks went by, the afternoon wait at the school gate became their most precious tradition. It wasn’t just about picking Annie up from school—it was about connection, about sharing the small, important moments of the day that no one else cared about. For Annie, it was knowing that no matter how her day went, there would be someone waiting for her, eager to hear her stories and make her smile. For Lucky, it was knowing that it had a purpose—that it was needed, loved, and that its favorite person in the whole world was coming home to it.
One evening, as Annie lay in bed, she asked Lucky, “Do you get tired of waiting for me every day?”
Lucky curled up closer to her, its head on her arm. “Tired? Never!” it said. “Waiting for you is my favorite part of the day. It makes me happy just thinking about seeing you walk through that school gate. You’re worth every minute of waiting, Annie.”
Annie’s heart felt full. She kissed Lucky’s forehead softly. “You’re worth it too,” she said. “More than you’ll ever know.”
As they drifted off to sleep, Annie knew that the old locust tree at the school gate wasn’t just a meeting spot—it was a symbol of their love and friendship. It was where Lucky waited, where stories were shared, and where every day, they were reunited. And that was the most special thing of all.
Chapter 8 The Out-of-Control Search and Longing
Wednesday started like any other day for Annie and Lucky. Annie fed Lucky breakfast, hugged it goodbye, and headed to school, while Lucky watched her leave, whispering “I’ll be waiting for you!” as usual. But what Lucky didn’t know was that Annie’s teacher had announced a last-minute group project meeting after class. “We need to finish planning our presentation,” Ms. Lee had said. “It’ll only take an hour, but make sure to tell your parents you’ll be late.”
Annie nodded, thinking she’d remember to call her mom later. But as soon as she started working with her group—talking about their project on forest animals, drawing posters, and practicing their lines—she completely forgot about the time. She also forgot that Lucky didn’t have a phone, couldn’t read messages, and would be waiting for her at the old locust tree like always, with no idea she was delayed.
At three o’clock sharp, Lucky was ready. It sat by the front door, wagging its tail, waiting for Annie’s mom to put on its leash. “Let’s go, let’s go!” it whispered eagerly. Annie’s mom smiled, grabbing the leash. “Someone’s excited,” she said. They walked to the school gate, and Lucky plopped down under the locust tree, ears pressed to the ground, listening for Annie’s footsteps.
But the minutes ticked by, and there was no sign of Annie. The other kids left one by one, their parents chatting as they walked away. The school gate closed slowly, and the playground grew quiet. Lucky’s tail stopped wagging. It sat up, scanning the empty street, its eyes growing worried. “Annie?” it whispered. “Where are you?”
It pressed its ears to the ground again, but all it heard were distant car horns and the rustle of wind in the leaves. No light, happy footsteps. No call of “Lucky!” from down the street. The sun started to sink lower in the sky, painting the clouds pink. Annie’s mom checked her phone—no message from Annie. “She must be still working on the project,” she said to herself, but she could see Lucky was getting anxious. She knelt down, petting its head. “Don’t worry, Lucky. Annie will be here soon. Let’s wait a little longer.”
Lucky nodded, but its heart was racing. What if something bad happened to Annie? What if she got lost? What if she didn’t want to come home? The more it thought, the more scared it became. It remembered the days when it was a stray—abandoned, alone, not knowing where its next meal would come from. It couldn’t bear the thought of losing Annie too. She was its home, its family, its everything.
After another thirty minutes, the sky turned orange, and streetlights started to flicker on. Still no Annie. Lucky couldn’t wait anymore. It pulled hard on its leash, letting out a series of anxious barks “Calm down, Lucky,” Annie’s mom said, trying to hold it back. “Let’s go home and call Annie’s teacher. She’ll tell us where Annie is.”
But Lucky didn’t want to go home. It wanted to find Annie—now. It pulled harder, and this time, the leash slipped out of Annie’s mom’s hand. Before she could call it back, Lucky darted down the street, its small body running as fast as it could toward the direction Annie usually took home. “Lucky! Come back!” Annie’s mom called, but Lucky didn’t stop. It had only one thing on its mind: finding Annie.
Lucky ran past the bakery where Annie sometimes bought cookies, past the park where they’d played fetch, past the little stream they’d jumped over together. “Annie! Annie, where are you?” it whispered as it ran, its paws pounding the pavement. It looked left and right, sniffing the air, hoping to catch Annie’s scent. But the wind was blowing, and all it could smell was car exhaust and fresh bread from the bakery.
It stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, its chest heaving. A kind stranger knelt down, petting it. “Lost, little guy?” they asked. Lucky wagged its tail weakly, then darted across the street as soon as the light turned green. It ran until its legs felt weak, until its tongue hung out of its mouth, panting. But there was no sign of Annie. Fear started to creep in—what if it never found her again?
Meanwhile, Annie’s group finally finished their project. “Great job, everyone!” Ms. Lee said. “You can go home now.” Annie looked at the clock and gasped—it was almost five o’clock! “Oh no! I forgot about Lucky!” she said, grabbing her backpack and rushing out of the classroom. She ran to the school gate, but the old locust tree was empty. No Lucky, no mom.
Her heart sank. She ran home as fast as she could, her shoes tapping loudly on the sidewalk. “Lucky! Lucky!” she called as she ran, her voice trembling. When she burst through the front door, the house was quiet. “Mom? Lucky?” she shouted.
Annie’s mom came out of the kitchen, looking worried. “Annie! Thank goodness you’re home. We were so worried—”
“Where’s Lucky?” Annie interrupted, her eyes filling with tears. “Is it here? Did it come home?”
Annie’s mom shook her head, and Annie’s worst fears came true. “It ran away,” she said gently. “We waited for you at the school gate for a long time, and Lucky got so anxious. It pulled the leash out of my hand and ran off. I tried to call it back, but it was too fast. I was just about to go look for it.”
Annie let out a sob. “It’s my fault,” she cried. “I forgot to tell it I’d be late! Lucky thinks I left it! It’s scared of being alone again—what if it gets lost? What if something happens to it?” She remembered how Lucky had told her about its days as a stray, how scared it had been. The thought of Lucky being out there alone, cold and frightened, made her heart ache.
She grabbed her jacket, wiping her tears. “I have to find it,” she said firmly. “I have to bring it home.”
Annie’s mom nodded, grabbing her keys. “We’ll find it together. Let’s start with the route from school to home— that’s where it probably went.”
They walked out the door, and Annie started calling Lucky’s name, her voice loud and desperate. “Lucky! Lucky! Come here!” She ran down the street, checking every corner, every alley, every spot where Lucky might hide. “I’m sorry, Lucky! I’m so sorry I forgot!” she called, tears streaming down her face. “Please come back! I need you!”
She passed the bakery, the park, the stream—all the places they’d shared happy moments. But there was no sign of Lucky. The sky grew darker, and the streetlights cast long shadows. Annie’s legs felt heavy, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Lucky was counting on her.
As she walked, she thought about all the times Lucky had been there for her—when she was sad, when she was lonely, when she needed someone to listen. Lucky had never forgotten her, never left her. But she had forgotten Lucky, and now it was gone. The guilt was almost too much to bear.
“I promise I’ll never forget you again,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I promise I’ll always tell you where I’m going. Just please, come back to me.”
Little did Annie know, Lucky was thinking the same thing—running, searching, longing to find its favorite human. The sun had set completely now, and the world was dark. But both Annie and Lucky refused to give up. They had to find each other—because they weren’t just friends. They were family.
Chapter 9 The Mutual Rush Under the Streetlight
The night air grew cool, and a light breeze blew, carrying the scent of grass and distant flowers. Annie ran as fast as she could, her eyes blurred by tears, calling Lucky’s name over and over. “Lucky! Lucky! Please answer me!” Her voice echoed down the empty streets, but there was no response—only the rustle of leaves and the hum of distant cars.
Her mom followed closely behind, calling out too, but Annie barely noticed. Her mind was filled with images of Lucky: its fluffy golden-and-white fur, its big round eyes, the way it nuzzled her hand when she was sad. She thought about the rainy night they met, how she’d wrapped it in her jacket and snuck it home. She thought about the secrets they shared, the adventures in the dandelion field, the afternoons under the locust tree. How could she have forgotten to tell it she’d be late? How could she have let it get scared and run away?
“I’m so sorry, Lucky,” she sobbed, her legs aching. “I never meant to hurt you. Please, just let me find you.”
Meanwhile, Lucky was still running, its paws sore and its heart heavy. It had wandered far from the usual route, turning down streets it didn’t recognize. The darkness made everything look strange, and fear gripped its chest. It stopped for a moment, sitting on the curb, its ears drooping. “Annie,” it whispered, its voice trembling. “Where are you? I’m scared.”
It had never felt this lost before—not even when it was a stray. Back then, it didn’t have anyone to miss, anyone to worry about. But now, it had Annie—and the thought of never seeing her again was worse than any cold night or empty stomach. It took a deep breath, shook off the exhaustion, and kept going. It had to find her.
Lucky trotted along a quiet street lined with streetlights. The warm glow lit up the pavement, casting its small shadow on the ground. Its legs felt like lead, and it could barely lift its paws, but it kept moving. Suddenly, it heard a familiar voice—faint, but unmistakable.
“Lucky! Lucky!”
It froze. Was that Annie? It pricked up its ears, listening carefully. Yes! There it was again—Annie’s voice, filled with desperation and fear. Lucky let out a happy bark (which it hoped Annie would hear) and took off toward the sound, its tired legs finding a burst of energy.
“Annie! I’m here! I’m here!” it whispered as it ran, its tail wagging wildly.
Annie was walking down the same street, her head down, calling Lucky’s name. She was about to give up hope when she saw a small, fluffy figure running toward her, its silhouette illuminated by the streetlight. Her heart skipped a beat. “Lucky?” she whispered.
The figure got closer, and Annie could see its golden-and-white fur, its big round eyes, its wagging tail. It was Lucky!
“Lucky!” she screamed, tears of joy streaming down her face. She ran toward it, and Lucky ran toward her—two small figures rushing to each other under the warm streetlight.
When they met, Annie dropped to her knees and pulled Lucky into her arms, hugging it as tightly as she could. Lucky nuzzled her neck, licking her tears, its body shaking with relief. “Annie! I found you!” it whispered, its voice choked with emotion.
“I found you too!” Annie cried, holding it so tight she was afraid to let go. “I thought I’d never see you again! I’m so sorry, Lucky. I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you I’d be late. I never meant to make you scared.”
Lucky pulled back slightly, looking up at her with wet eyes. “I was so worried about you,” it said. “I thought something bad happened. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. You’re my home.”
Annie kissed its forehead, her tears falling onto its fur. “You’re my home too, Lucky. I’m never going to forget to tell you where I’m going again. I’m never going to let you get scared like that.”
They sat there on the curb, hugging each other, as the streetlight cast a warm glow around them. Annie’s mom caught up a few minutes later, breathing heavily. “Thank goodness,” she said, smiling through her own tears. “I was so worried about both of you.”
She knelt down next to them, petting Lucky gently. “You’re a brave little dog, aren’t you? Running all that way to find Annie.”
Lucky wagged its tail, letting out a soft “woof” (which Annie heard as “I’d run a million miles to find her!”).
As they walked home, Annie carried Lucky in her arms. Lucky rested its head on her shoulder, closing its eyes, content to be back with its favorite human. Annie held it tightly, feeling its warm breath on her neck.
“I love you, Lucky,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Annie,” Lucky whispered back.
When they got home, Annie made Lucky a bowl of warm milk and its favorite kibble. Lucky ate slowly, savoring the food, while Annie sat next to it, watching it with a smile. Her mom made hot cocoa for Annie, sitting down beside her.
“You two have a very special bond,” her mom said softly. “I’ve never seen Annie this happy, and I’ve never seen a dog this loyal.”
Annie nodded, petting Lucky’s soft fur. “We’re family,” she said simply.
That night, Lucky curled up next to Annie’s bed, but Annie picked it up and put it on her pillow. She wanted to keep it close, to make sure it didn’t disappear again. Lucky snuggled into her side, its body warm and soft.
“Good night, Annie,” it whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”
Annie smiled, closing her eyes. “Good night, Lucky. I’ll be right here too.”
As she drifted off to sleep, she felt Lucky’s gentle breathing against her cheek. The scare of losing Lucky had been terrible, but it had also taught her something important: true friendship wasn’t just about sharing happy moments. It was about worrying for each other, searching for each other, and never giving up—no matter how dark the night or how far apart they were.
Annie and Lucky had that kind of friendship. They were more than friends—they were family. And nothing could ever change that.
Chapter 10 Lucy’s Little Doubt and Secret Sharing
A week after the streetlight reunion, Annie couldn’t wait to introduce Lucky to Lucy properly. They’d talked about the puppy on the phone, but Lucy had only caught a quick glimpse of it once when Annie was walking it. Now that Lucky was officially part of the family, Annie wanted her best friend to meet her furry best friend.
“Lucy’s coming over this afternoon,” Annie told Lucky excitedly as they ate breakfast. “She’s been asking to see you for weeks. You have to be on your best behavior, okay? She’s really nice—she’ll love you!”
Lucky wagged its tail, its eyes lighting up. “I’m so excited! I’ve heard so much about her. She’s the one who shares candy with you, right?”
“That’s her!” Annie said, nodding. “And she’s my first human friend. Now you’re my second best friend—we’ll all be friends together!”
Lucky tilted its head. “Can I talk to her? Or do I have to pretend to be a regular dog?”
Annie thought for a moment. “You have to pretend to be regular around her—at least for now. I don’t know if she’ll believe that you can talk. It’s our special secret, remember?”
“Got it!” Lucky said, sitting up straight. “I’ll just bark and wag my tail. I’m good at that!”
When Lucy arrived, she ran through the front door with a big smile. “Hi Annie! Hi Lucky!” she said, bending down to pet the puppy. Lucky wagged its tail furiously and let out a soft “woof” (which Annie heard as “Hi Lucy! I’m so glad to meet you!”).
“He’s so cute!” Lucy said, scratching Lucky behind the ears. “His fur is so soft, and his eyes are like little stars!”
Annie grinned. “I know! He’s the best. Come on—we can play in my room. I have new coloring books, and we can give Lucky some treats.”
They went upstairs to Annie’s room, and Lucky followed, trotting happily beside them. Annie pulled out her coloring books and crayons, and Lucy sat down on the floor. Lucky curled up next to Annie, but every time Lucy looked over, it wagged its tail or licked her hand.
At first, everything was normal. Annie and Lucy colored, chatting about school and their favorite games. But after a while, Lucy started to notice something odd. Annie would talk to Lucky as if it could understand her—and then she’d pause, as if listening to a response.
“Lucky, do you like this color?” Annie asked, holding up a blue crayon. Lucky tilted its head and barked. Annie laughed. “I knew you would! Blue is your favorite, just like mine.”
Lucy blinked. “Annie… are you talking to Lucky? Like, really talking to him?”
Annie’s face turned pink. “Um… yeah. He’s my friend, so I tell him things.”
Lucy nodded, but she looked confused. A little later, Annie dropped her crayon under the bed. “Oops,” she said. Lucky immediately jumped up and fetched it with its mouth, dropping it at Annie’s feet.
“Thank you, Lucky!” Annie said. “You’re so helpful.” Lucky barked, and Annie smiled. “You’re welcome? Aw, you’re too sweet.”
Lucy put down her crayon. “Okay, Annie. I have to ask—do you really think Lucky can understand you? Because it seems like you’re having a conversation with him.”
Annie’s heart raced. She’d known this moment might come, but she wasn’t sure what to say. She looked at Lucky, who tilted its head as if encouraging her. The streetlight reunion had taught Annie how important it was to cherish the people (and animals) she loved—and Lucy was her best friend. If anyone could keep a secret, it was Lucy.
“Can you promise not to tell anyone?” Annie asked, her voice quiet.
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Of course! I’m the best at keeping secrets. What is it?”
Annie took a deep breath. “Lucky can talk. But only to me. No one else can hear him—not even my mom. It’s our special secret.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “Wait… really? He can talk? Like, actual words?”
Annie nodded. “Want me to prove it?” She turned to Lucky. “Lucky, what’s your favorite treat?”
Lucky looked at Annie, then at Lucy, and barked. But to Annie, it said, “Chicken! I love chicken treats the most!”
Annie smiled. “He says his favorite treat is chicken. Do you want to ask him something?”
Lucy hesitated, then leaned forward. “Hi Lucky,” she said, her voice excited. “Um… do you like being Annie’s friend?”
Lucky barked again, and Annie translated. “He says ‘Yes! Annie is the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m so lucky to have her.’”
Lucy gasped, clapping her hands. “That’s amazing! This is the coolest secret ever! I can’t believe it—Lucky can talk, and only you can hear him!”
Annie let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you believe me. I was worried you’d think I was crazy.”
“Crazy? No way!” Lucy said. “This is awesome. We’re like a secret club—you, me, and talking Lucky!”
Lucky wagged its tail, barking happily (which Annie heard as “Secret club! I love secret clubs!”).
From that day on, Lucy was part of their little secret. She didn’t hear Lucky’s voice, but she loved watching Annie and Lucky interact. She’d ask Annie to translate Lucky’s barks, and she’d tell Lucky stories about her and Annie’s adventures—like the time they built a fort in Lucy’s backyard or tried to bake cookies (which turned out burnt).
One afternoon, they were playing fetch in Annie’s backyard. Lucy threw a ball, and Lucky chased it, bringing it back to her. “Lucky, do you want to play hide-and-seek next?” Lucy asked. Annie translated, and Lucky barked.
“He says yes!” Annie said. “He’s really good at hiding. You’ll never find him!”
Lucy grinned. “We’ll see about that!”
They played hide-and-seek for hours. Lucky hid under the porch, behind the bushes, and even in Annie’s toy box. Lucy searched everywhere, laughing as she called its name. Every time she found Lucky, she’d cheer, and Lucky would wag its tail proudly.
When they got tired, they sat down on the grass. Lucy pulled out a bag of strawberry candies—her favorite—and shared them with Annie. She held one out to Lucky. “Do you want one, Lucky? It’s strawberry.”
Lucky sniffed it and barked. Annie laughed. “He says ‘Strawberry is okay, but I’d rather have chicken. But thank you anyway!’”
Lucy laughed too. “Fair enough. Next time I’ll bring chicken treats.”
As they sat there, Lucy looked at Annie and smiled. “You know, Annie, you’ve changed a lot since you got Lucky. You’re happier, and you laugh more. It’s really nice to see.”
Annie felt warm. “I know. Lucky changed everything. He’s my best friend—he listens to me when I’m sad, and he makes me laugh when I’m bored. And now we have you too. I’m so lucky.”
Lucky nuzzled Annie’s hand, then Lucy’s. “We’re all lucky,” Annie translated. “I have you two, and you have each other. That’s the best thing ever.”
Lucy nodded, squeezing Annie’s hand. “Yeah. It is.”
That evening, when Lucy left, she gave Lucky a big hug. “Bye Lucky! I’ll see you soon—with chicken treats!” Lucky barked, and Annie said, “He says ‘Bye Lucy! I can’t wait! And thank you for being our friend!’”
After Lucy was gone, Annie sat down with Lucky on her bed. “I’m so glad I told her,” she said. “It feels good to share our secret with someone else.”
Lucky curled up next to her. “Me too. Lucy is really nice. I’m glad we’re all friends.”
Annie smiled, petting Lucky’s fur. “Me too. Now we have a secret club—just the three of us. And it’s the best club ever.”
As the sun set, Annie knew that her friendship with Lucy was stronger than ever, and her bond with Lucky was unbreakable. Having a secret that only the three of them shared made their time together even more special. And Annie couldn’t wait for all the adventures they’d have—together, as friends, as a club, as family.
Chapter 11 The Legend of the Wishing Stream and Heartfelt Wishes
As the weather grew warmer and the days longer, Annie, Lucky, and Lucy spent every weekend exploring together. They’d hike the forest trails, have picnics in the dandelion field, and play games in Annie’s backyard. Lucy loved hearing Annie translate Lucky’s words, and Lucky loved having a new friend who treated it like part of the group.
One Saturday morning, Lucky bounded into Annie’s room, its tail wagging so hard it knocked over a stuffed rabbit. “Annie! Annie! I have a surprise!” it whispered excitedly. “I remembered another secret spot in the forest—even better than the dandelion field! Do you want to go? We can bring Lucy too!”
Annie sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Really? What is it?”
“It’s a stream! A magical stream!” Lucky said. “When I was a stray, I found it during a hot summer day. The water is clear and cold, and the fish swim right up to your hands. And the best part—there’s a legend about it!”
“A legend?” Annie’s eyes lit up. “Tell me!”
“Old animals in the forest say that if you make a wish by the stream at noon, when the sun is straight overhead, your wish will come true!” Lucky said, bouncing on its paws. “But you have to wish for something from your heart—not toys or candy. Something real.”
Annie grinned. “That’s amazing! We have to go! I’ll call Lucy right away.”
An hour later, the three of them set off for the forest—Annie and Lucy walking side by side, Lucky trotting ahead, leading the way. The forest was alive with sounds: birds singing, squirrels chattering, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Lucy carried a picnic basket filled with sandwiches and fruit, and Annie brought a water bottle for everyone.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Lucy said, looking around at the tall trees and colorful wildflowers. “I can’t believe I’ve never been this far into the forest.”
“Lucky knows all the best spots,” Annie said, smiling at her furry friend. “It’s like having a forest guide who can talk!”
Lucky barked happily (which Annie heard as “I’m the best guide ever! Just wait till you see the stream!”).
After about twenty minutes of walking, Lucky stopped. “We’re here!” it said proudly.
Annie and Lucy gasped. In front of them was a small, clear stream, winding through the trees. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and tiny fish darted around near the shore. Moss covered the rocks, and wildflowers grew along the banks. It was like a scene from a fairy tale.
“It’s perfect,” Lucy whispered.
They sat down on a flat rock by the stream, and Annie poured water into the extra bowl for Lucky. Lucky lapped it up eagerly, then dipped its paws into the stream, splashing gently. “The water is so cold!” it said, shaking its paws. “It feels amazing!”
Annie and Lucy dipped their hands in too, giggling as the cold water refreshed them. They ate their sandwiches, chatting and watching the fish swim. As noon approached, the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting bright light on the stream.
“Almost time!” Lucky said, sitting up straight. “Are you guys ready to make your wishes?”
Annie and Lucy nodded, their faces serious. “What should I wish for?” Lucy whispered, looking at Annie.
“Something from your heart,” Annie said. “Like the legend says.”
At exactly noon, the sun shone directly on the stream, making the water glow like liquid silver. Lucky closed its eyes, its paws together (as much as a dog could manage). Annie and Lucy closed their eyes too, clasping their hands.
Annie thought hard. She didn’t want toys or candy. She didn’t want to be the best artist or the fastest runner. What she wanted more than anything was to keep the people she loved safe and happy—her mom, Lucy, and Lucky. She wished that their friendship would never fade, that they’d always have adventures together, and that Lucky would never have to be scared or lonely again.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Lucy smiling softly. “What did you wish for?” Annie asked.
Lucy shook her head. “I can’t tell you—then it won’t come true!” she said. “But it’s something really important. What about you?”
“I can’t tell either,” Annie laughed. “But it’s something that makes my heart feel full.”
They turned to Lucky. “Did you make a wish, Lucky?” Lucy asked. Annie translated, and Lucky nodded eagerly.
“I wished that we’d always be friends,” it said. “That Annie and Lucy would never be sad, and that we could come back to this stream every summer. And I wished that no more stray animals would have to be lonely.”
Annie’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s the sweetest wish ever, Lucky,” she said, hugging it.
Lucy smiled. “I think all our wishes will come true,” she said. “This stream feels magical.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon by the stream. They skipped stones (Lucky tried too, but just splashed water everywhere), chased dragonflies, and collected smooth pebbles to take home. Lucky told them stories about the animals it had met in the forest—like a wise old owl who lived in a tall tree, and a family of rabbits who shared their carrots with it.
As they walked home, the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of purple and pink. Lucy carried a pocketful of pebbles, and Annie held Lucky’s leash, feeling its warm fur against her hand.
“That was the best day ever,” Lucy said. “Thank you for bringing me here, Annie. And thank you, Lucky, for showing us the magical stream.”
Lucky barked, and Annie translated. “It says ‘You’re welcome! I’m glad you liked it. And I hope your wish comes true!’”
When they got to Lucy’s house, they hugged goodbye. “See you at school on Monday!” Lucy said. “And let’s come back to the stream soon—maybe we can bring Ethan next time? He’d love it here.”
Annie nodded. “That sounds fun!”
At home, Annie told her mom all about the magical stream and the legend. Her mom smiled. “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “I’m glad you three had such a great day.”
That night, Annie lay in bed, Lucky curled up beside her. “Do you really think wishes come true?” she asked softly.
Lucky looked up at her. “I think if you wish for something with all your heart, and you work to keep it true, then yes,” it said. “Our friendship isn’t magic—it’s real. But the stream is a reminder to cherish it.”
Annie smiled, leaning down to kiss Lucky’s forehead. “You’re right. Our friendship is the most magical thing of all.”
As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about the stream, the wishes, and her two best friends. She didn’t know if the legend was true, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had people (and a dog) who loved her, who made her happy, and who she loved more than anything.
And that was enough.
Chapter 12 The Dandelion Reunion and Forever Promise
Autumn arrived quietly, painting the forest in shades of gold and red. The dandelion field where Lucky first took Annie had turned into a sea of white fluff, ready to drift away with the wind. One Saturday afternoon, Annie, Lucky, Lucy, and even Ethan (invited by Lucy) walked to the clearing—their first group adventure with Ethan.
“Wow, this place is amazing,” Ethan said, looking around at the floating dandelion seeds. “No wonder you talked about it so much, Annie.”
Lucky wagged its tail, barking softly (which Annie heard as “Told you it’s the best spot!”). Lucy laughed as a seed landed on her nose, and Ethan tried to catch the floating fluff, his hands flailing playfully.
They sat in a circle on the grass. Annie pulled out a sketchbook—she’d drawn the field in spring, and now she wanted to capture its autumn beauty. Lucky curled up beside her, while Lucy and Ethan shared stories about their school days.
“Remember when we got lost looking for the wishing stream?” Lucy said, grinning. “Lucky led us back with its nose!”
Ethan nodded, impressed. “That dog’s smarter than most people I know,” he said. Annie translated, and Lucky puffed out its chest proudly.
As the sun began to set, Annie picked a dandelion. “Let’s make a promise,” she said, holding it up. “No matter where we go, no matter how old we get, we’ll always come back here—together. And we’ll always be friends.”
Lucy and Ethan nodded eagerly. Annie closed her eyes, blew the dandelion seeds into the wind, and Lucky let out a soft bark (its own way of agreeing). The seeds danced in the air, carrying their promise with them.
Ethan smiled. “I’ve never had friends like you guys,” he said. “You make even ordinary days feel like adventures.”
Annie felt warm in her chest. From a lonely girl to having three beloved friends—human and furry—her life had changed completely. Lucky was right: happiness wasn’t about having a brother or fitting in. It was about finding people (and animals) who loved you for who you are.
As they walked home, the sky glowed pink. Ethan carried Annie’s sketchbook, Lucy held Lucky’s leash, and Annie walked beside her furry best friend, her hand resting gently on its head.
That night, as Lucky curled up on Annie’s pillow, Annie whispered, “We have a forever promise now.”
Lucky nuzzled her cheek. “Forever,” it repeated softly. “No matter where the wind takes the dandelions, we’ll always find our way back to each other.”
Annie closed her eyes, smiling. The dandelion seeds might drift far, but their friendship would stay rooted—strong, warm, and forever. And that was the greatest adventure of all.
