A fatty man with a huge smile

The best days

Life with Shadow was a slow unraveling of small, unexpected joys—the kind Ollie had forgotten existed.

### **Morning Rituals**

Dawn came gently now, no longer marked by the shrill scream of an alarm clock but by the warm, insistent press of a wet nose against his fingers. Shadow would start with soft whines, then progress to delicate licks along Ollie’s knuckles, his rough tongue dragging sleep from Ollie’s bones until he groaned and rolled out of bed.

*“Alright, alright, I’m up,”* Ollie would grumble, rubbing his eyes.

Shadow would wag his entire backside in response, nails clicking excitedly against the floor as he trotted to the kitchen, waiting for the ritual of breakfast—scrambled eggs, a slice of toast (always shared), and the last sip of coffee Ollie would “accidentally” leave in his mug for Shadow to sneak.

### **Evening Walks**

Their walks were never hurried. Shadow never pulled, never strained against the leash. He matched Ollie’s slow, steady pace as if he had nowhere better to be than right beside him, sniffing lampposts and letting the evening air fill his lungs.

Sometimes, they’d take the long route to the riverbank, where the water lapped lazily against the shore. Shadow would wade in just far enough to let the current swirl around his paws, then shake himself off dramatically, spraying Ollie with cold droplets. Ollie would laugh, swatting at him half-heartedly, and Shadow would grin in that way dogs do—tongue lolling, eyes bright—before flopping onto the grass beside him.

They’d stay there until the streetlights flickered on, watching the water ripple under the fading sun.

### **Festivals and Fairs**

When the summer carnival rolled into town, Ollie hesitated. Crowds made him nervous—the judging eyes, the way people would glance at him and then quickly away, as if his size was something contagious.

But Shadow had pressed against his leg that morning, his tail wagging at the distant sounds of laughter and music.

*“You wanna go?”* Ollie asked.

Shadow barked—once, decisive.

So they went.

The carnival was a riot of color and noise—bright flags snapping in the breeze, the sugary scent of cotton candy and fried dough thick in the air. Shadow stuck close, his shoulder brushing Ollie’s calf as they moved through the crowd.

No one stared. No one whispered.

Because Shadow was a magnet—not for judgment, but for smiles. Kids pointed excitedly, asking to pet him. Vendors tossed him scraps when they thought Ollie wasn’t looking. And when they passed a booth selling giant turkey legs, Shadow planted his feet and refused to budge until Ollie sighed and bought one to share.

They sat on a bench near the Ferris wheel, Shadow gnawing happily on the bone while Ollie licked grease from his fingers. For the first time in years, Ollie didn’t feel like an outsider. He just felt… *happy.*

### **The Flu That Winter**

When Ollie caught the flu, it hit him hard. His skin burned, his throat ached, and the thought of moving from the couch made him dizzy.

Shadow refused to leave his side.

He dragged Ollie’s blankets over him with careful tugs of his teeth, piling them up until Ollie was buried under a mountain of fabric. When Ollie croaked for water, Shadow brought him a half-empty bottle he’d fished from the recycling bin (most of it ended up spilled across the floor, but the effort was touching).

And when the landlord came knocking for rent, Shadow lost his mind.

He launched himself at the door, barking like a guard dog from hell, his teeth bared in a way that sent the man stumbling back.

*“Jesus Christ!”* the landlord snapped through the wood. *“Just—just leave it under the door next time!”*

Ollie, sweaty and flushed with fever, laughed until his ribs hurt.

*“You’re a better nurse than any human,”* he rasped, reaching out to ruffle Shadow’s ears.

Shadow wagged his tail as if to say, *Obviously.* Then he flopped onto the couch, wedging himself against Ollie’s side, and stayed there—warm and solid—until the fever broke.

---

These were the best days. The quiet ones. The messy ones. The ones where Ollie realized, with a sudden ache in his chest, that he couldn’t remember what life had been like before Shadow.

And he didn’t want to.