As Foofy continued running through the forest, he made new resolves. There would be no more breaks nor would Foofy let the big ball ever leave his mouth, neither. He simply could not risk losing it again, given the way that his last break had nearly ended in disaster.

The next time that he would drop the big ball, Foofy would be delivering it to Master. All he had to do now was find her.

Admittedly, Foofy lacked a sense of direction. He knew where he wanted to go, only he had no idea how to get there. At any rate, his destination was the beach.

The good news about going to the beach: the island had sandy ground all around its edges. No matter which way that Foofy went, he would find his way there eventually. With this confidence, Foofy ran on throughout the forest.

Running kept him warm. The nights had grown chilly, and Foofy did not like the cold. Under normal circumstances, he required the warmth of his master’s shelter to keep his body from wracking with shivers. The excitement of tonight, however, made his blood run hot enough to keep him warm.

Foofy ran and ran until grains of sand shifted between his paws. At last, he had arrived at the beach. From here, he only needed to find Master.

His master almost always stayed around the beach somewhere, so Foofy began wandering around it. Even if he had to travel around the entire circumference of the island like on his morning runs with Master, Foofy would not stop. So long as he kept to the beach, he should find Master eventually.

The night dragged on for a long time. Foofy had nothing but the lapping of the ocean’s waves to keep him company. It was a sound that he did not like very much. The longer that he stayed out here, the more helpless that his situation felt, all alone in the night.

He really missed Master. His jaws ached with the size and weight of the big ball, no worse than how heavy his chest felt. Foofy felt sad, and he had never felt more discouraged than right now. Would he ever manage to find his master?

Foofy had to find her. He simply, absolutely had to because he hated to imagine the alternative.

In the event that he failed, Foofy would have to experience the sadness and heartbreak of losing a master all over again. His first master had loved him and spent all of their time together when he had been just a puppy.

Sometime after he had grown up into an adult dog, Old Master had packed all of their belongings into some boxes. Old Master had petted him and said some human words that he did not understand at the time, and definitely did not remember now.

From there, Old Master dropped him off at that place with many dogs. The building was crowded and smelly and dirty, not even in the way that Foofy liked. There were many stressed dogs, which had only served to make Foofy feel more stressed in kind. All of them had been anxiously awaiting the return of their masters, just like Foofy.

Sometimes, dogs would leave with humans. Other times, they would disappear, assumingly going home with their masters in the same way. Whenever that happened, Foofy had felt renewed with hope. Maybe his very own master would come for him soon! Foofy could not wait for Old Master to come back and get him out of there.

Every day, he waited like a good boy.

There, he had met his new master. She had started out as Stranger. Then, she became Kind Stranger who would visit him every day, take him on walks, and even give him carrot snacks. Eventually, Kind Stranger became Master, but Foofy would never forget the sadness and confusion of that place where they had first met.

The process of transitioning between his masters had been a lot for a dog’s mind to take in. Right now, it really seemed as though he might just lose his master yet again.

At least if Foofy lost Master now, there would be no cage nor other stressed dogs around him. As the only perk of that place, he had been given food like he was used to from the Overlord at the shelter.

If Foofy could not find Master, though, he had no idea how he would feed himself—Foofy needed Master for that. The Fishy One would also do for that matter, but surely the Fishy One would lead him back to Master anyway.

On top of his aching jaws and heavy heart, Foofy now noticed his empty stomach. He wanted food, especially considering how morning was drawing near. He had been running and wandering around this island all night. As miserable as he felt, in another way, his hunger also renewed his hope.

Once Foofy found Master, he would be a good boy. She would undoubtedly praise him and maybe even give him a treat. The idea of a treat pushed him onward.

A faint human voice called in the distance.

Foofy’s ears perked up all at once, straining to hear that human so far away.

“Foofy?”

His ears could not lift any higher, but the baby tail at his butt began to wiggle. That was his name! Better yet, that was Master’s voice!

“Come!”

On top of that, she wanted him to come!

Foofy did not even need the command to get him to take off in his fastest sprint towards her voice. As he ran in that direction, she came into sight.

“Ah,” Master could be heard gasping. Then, she followed this up with a cheer. “Foofy!”

Indeed, Foofy was on his way. He pushed himself to run his very fastest, always trying to reach a new top speed with every stride.

At Master’s side, the Fishy One accompanied her. In fact, he had been able to sense the Fishy One’s odor before either of the humans had come into sight. The Fishy One was a friend, so Foofy did not object to his presence so long as he would be the one who got all of Master’s attention.

Foofy slid to a stop in the sand. While he may have been tired from that headlong dash, he would never be too tired to celebrate a job well done. Master’s happiness renewed his strength, giving him the energy to prance in front of her.

All along, he knew himself to be a good boy.

“Yes! You are such a good Dobie! You are simply amazing Foofy. Best dog ever! Good boy!”

The vast majority of those words that she said, Foofy did not comprehend. What he did understand was the tone of praise in her voice, so he did know that he was a good dog. All of her excited pettings, he received in this state of animation.

Master had even said so herself. He was a good boy!

After all, Foofy had always known himself to be a good boy. Having pleased his master, he could not be any happier.