Provide some background about the English Graphic Novel and Flash Fiction assignment
Lone Wolf
I was 16 years old. Like any other teenager at my school, I struggled with the next Calculus test and figuring out where my wallet went.
But unlike most of them, my main source of companionship was a little Welsh Corgi named Cookie. Often times I couldn't bear the company of other humans. I was just too awkward.
But Cookie was always there for me. It always brought a smile to my face when he'd greet me by the front door, nipping at my ankles and trying to give me a hug. Even though he couldn’t call me “Vicky” or “Victoria”, he’d be by my side regardless no matter how bad my day was. Every Friday just before sunset, it became ritual for us to go down to the hot dog vendor's stand, buy a few sausages, and toss them at Cookie to train him to jump and sit.
But on April 18, 2012, I came home to an eerily empty house. My mother was on the phone frantically talking with multiple people, including the police. Soon, I'd figured out the unbearable truth that he ran away.
For the next week, I spent the daytime frantically putting up Lost Dog posters. I spent my nights crying myself to sleep, wondering what I'd ever do if I never saw him again. Another few days passed. Still no phone calls.
As I was putting the last few posters up, a boy about my age approached me.
"Oh, hello. Are you the one who lost your dog?"
"Yeah. Do you have any information regarding him?"
"No, but I can hel--"
"Then forget it. I need someone who can help me." I quickly turned my head away. Crap. I started feeling the tears form in my eyes.
I started walking away before he grabbed my shoulder. "Look. I know what it's like to have lost a dog. I never ever want anyone else to feel like that, so I’ve helped dozens of people find their lost companions.”
I flinched at this sudden physical contact, but then I let out a sigh.
“Alright… you’re my only hope…”
“Glad to help. What’s your name, by the way?”
“I’m… I’m Victoria.”
“Matt. Nice to meet you.”
The next day, I found him at school, and talked to him occasionally. It was a slow start from a simple “hello” that then developed into intense conversations about miscellaneous things.
Every day after school, both Matt and I would scour the city in hopes of finding Cookie. He even helped me make numerous phone calls to all his friends around the county to be alert for any Corgis.
Later on, I would hang out with him and his golden retriever, Ginger. She was great company, even though I didn’t have any particular affinity towards bigger dogs.
A few months passed, and as my friendship with Matt grew, I slowly began to accept the fact that Cookie wasn’t coming back. I still miss him dearly, but the best feeling of all was having the companionship of Matt and his dog.