It is cold in here, with an icy, numbing draft blowing in. I am sitting alone, playing with my Teddy. I am always alone. Teddy is all I have left.

Once, we lived in a manor. It had rolling hills the size of mountains, lush, sprawling gardens and a sparkling blue pool. But they were always away on business trips, earning the money the keep us there. One day they just never came home. I looked after myself, playing with Teddy. Together, we would journey through the jungle of their overgrown garden; tumble through the stark, desert plains of their silk-sheeted bed; bound through the endless skies above the glimmering pool. We were always together, Teddy and I. Always.

The floor turned sticky with mould. Teddy’s paws thickened with grime, and his beautiful pea-green coat slowly faded to a sickly yellow. His cute face was set in a sweet smile. Teddy is always happy, whatever happens. And he makes me happy, too. He is forever frozen in time, unmoving, but I know he is always looking out for me. Always.

One day, some hikers came by. They jumped over our gate, put their rucksacks down, and stared at me in concern, before calling out in kindly voices. They touched my matted hair and the ribs protruding from my body. They gave me a drink and some ham sandwiches from their lunch box. I was starving. They made some phone calls and soon a van with flashing lights arrived. It took me to a room. I awaited my fate.

I got taken to a new house a few days later. Teddy came too, of course. They called it ‘Adoption’. Through all our hardship, we were never parted, Teddy and I. We were always together. Always.

A scrawny dog has come into our lovely new home. What does he want? I wonder. He has a drooping tail, and two large brown eyes that stare dolefully at me. His coat is the colour of melted chocolate, although his scraggly hair could do with a trim. He is holding a battered rag of some sort, a grime covered toy. My sensitive nose wrinkles at his peculiar smell. I open my mouth to warn him away, but to my surprise he copies me. I am too shocked to do anything apart from whimper. Who is he, and what is he doing in my new home?

Finally, I pluck up the courage to approach the strange dog. We slowly move towards each other, one step at a time. Suddenly we are touching, but instead of feeling the warm, moist nose of a living, breathing animal, all I touch is glass - cold, shiny glass.

And that is when I realise.
This is no ordinary glass.



This is a mirror.
And the dog in the mirror is me.