"What is a reward for me right now?" Ken Honda's Happy Writing Marathon

"If you were to give yourself a reward right now, what would you give?"

I am participating in Ken Honda's Happy Writing Marathon this week.

A reward should be something that enchants and fulfills the self from the past.

If I were to give myself a reward right now,
I would want to hold "Kuma," the mixed-breed dog
that I picked up on the road by the river when I was in elementary school.

It was a quiet, still dawn before the sun had risen.
"Awoo... awoo..."
I woke up to a lonely-sounding howl.

When I looked outside from the second floor of our apartment,
I saw a pitch-black puppy in a cardboard box,
chasing after passing cars, then giving up...
Each time, it would whimper and return to the box.

Even though it was time to go to school,
I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

I thought hard with my young mind, moved the box to a place I thought was safe, and went to school, feeling reluctant to leave.

My mind wasn't on my lessons at all,
and I dashed home as soon as they were over.

"Whimper"... He was there!
He ran up to me happily.


When I brought him home and washed him clean,
the feet I thought were pitch black were wearing white tabi socks,
and there were white spots above his eyes, which made my mother and me burst into laughter.

My mother, who had lost her beloved dog the year before and said, "I won't keep another dog," gave in to my unwavering feelings, and Kuma became a member of our family.

From then on, he watched over me through my father's passing, moving houses, starting a job, and getting married.

How much comfort Kuma gave me.


When I would return to check on him after he got sick,
he would perk up just for that moment.
On the final night before he passed, my ears, as I nursed him, heard that same "awoo" sound from that first morning.

That voice, which only I could hear,
was Kuma's way of saying,
"Thank you for everything."

If I could hold that "Kuma" who was howling on the river embankment
with my adult hands, hugging him with all my might,
and pet him to my heart's content,
how happy I would be.

"Thank you for coming into my life."

I have lived with dogs ever since, but
you are truly special.

The years we spent together through difficult times
have become an irreplaceable treasure to me.

If I could meet you now and have you lick my face,
that alone would blow away all the hardships I've faced until now.

"You did your best, I was watching you the whole time."
You would surely say that, wouldn't you?

Thank you for such a wonderful prompt
that reminded me of my most precious source of comfort.

What is your reward?