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I was five when my parents gave me a funny soft toy – shaggy, bright yellow with red spots, puppy. He always lay my pillows, spreading her long, plush ears.

Buddy became my best friend, someone I trusted their children's secrets and grudges. When I was doing lessons, he stared right at me with her intelligent eyes-buttons and gleamed black, rough nose in the light of a Desk lamp. I changed the puppy collars of variegated, satin tapes, knitted bows on the soft ears and mokala into the plastic nose.

School time a little alienated us from each other. I grew up and was ashamed of her feelings for Teddy the dog. One day my friends came to visit me. They began to laugh at my old, sometimes shabby, puppy. In the hearts I put it in the closet, a bunch of junk.

In the evening, lay down to sleep, I suddenly felt like I was missing my good friend. I dropped into a dark closet and turned on a dim light bulb. My favorite toy was lying on a dusty shelf, sadly covering his long ears faded buttons eyes. From excess, suddenly surging feelings I burst into tears, grabbed the puppy and close to your chest, lay down with him under the blanket. I whispered in the ear a shabby sweet words and stroked Teddy back. And he, of course, forgive me, this toy puppy.

In the morning, seeing the pillow touching, with ginger muzzle, habitually flattened ears, I realized this because, by learning to admit our mistakes, we grow up and become real.