The fluffy little puppy sits by my feet, panting. His long, wet tongue lolls out of his mouth and his round brown eyes seem to smile as I pull a treat out of my purse. My purse smells like dog snacks now, though just a few months ago it smelled like cherry flavored lip gloss and cheap perfume. As I look at his sweet, fuzzy little face I remember what I was like without him, and what he was like without me. Those few months ago I was…I don’t even want to say. I was fake from top to bottom, and all my “friends” would have betrayed me the moment they had the chance. A few months ago the puppy was a starving orphan in an alley. I was coming back from a party, mascara stained tears running down my face, when I heard a whimper. I turned and saw the golden lab, the very soul of innocence. He didn’t deserve to live alone, defenseless, in this cold alley. So I took him home. I fed him, taught him not to relieve himself on my expensive new rug, and eventually I stopped caring about the damn rug and threw it away. So now as I bend down and hand the snack to my little friend, reminding myself that I don’t need to baby speak to him, I thank the puppy silently for giving me myself back.