GLIMMER FOR LARRY

PROLOGUE: Waiting

August Ivy Wachter had waited a long time to be ready for another dog.

Not because there weren't dogs. There were always dogs.

Every other day, another photograph.

Another hopeful face.

Another story.

Another almost.

But this wasn't something to rush.

He had learned that some things only become clearer by waiting.

The little philosophy had followed him most of his life.

Delayed gratification.

It sounded like something people said while standing in long lines or dieting through dessert.

To August, it meant something else.

It meant trusting that life occasionally knew what it was doing before he did.

Outside his Michigan home, birds argued over blueberries, while squirrels ignored every unwritten rule at the feeder. The old house had gradually begun feeling alive again. Projects had appeared in every room — some finished, many still waiting their turn.

There was room for another dog now.

Whether there was another dog meant for him...

he still wasn't sure.

Nearly six hundred miles away, another morning had already begun.

Mike and Susan had been awake for hours.

Breakfast was rarely a quiet affair at Best Buddy Puppy Nursery.

Tiny feet danced across clean floors.

Water bowls were topped off.

Breakfast dishes appeared.

Someone barked because someone else had looked at them.

Someone else barked simply because barking seemed like the proper way to greet Tuesday.

Mike laughed.

Susan laughed.

Neither seemed to notice the noise anymore.

To them...

this was simply morning.

The little dogs certainly didn't know they lived in a nursery.

To them...

this was home.

Darling thought so too.

She had friends.

She knew every familiar smell.

She knew which dogs stole toys.

Which ones finished breakfast first.

Which ones always wanted the sunny spot by the window.

She had learned the rhythm of this little world.

Darling had been there longer than the others. At 16 months old, she had watched dozens of puppies arrive, grow, and leave. The nursery was always changing.

Larry...somehow...had stayed too.

Only Sprocket had been there longer.That’s a subtle way of saying Sprocket has almost become part of the furniture at Best Buddy Puppy Nursery.

Darling thought it was a good life.

She had never wondered very much about the Outside.

Larry had.

"You ever think about it?"

Darling looked up from breakfast.

"About what?"

"The Outside."

She shrugged.

"Not really."

Larry stared toward the window.

"I bet it's scary."

A moment passed.

"...Probably awesome too."

Darling smiled.

"I think you think everything's awesome."

Larry grinned.

"I hope so."

Not far away, someone else had been watching.

Morgan.

Older.

Wiser.

The kind of dog younger dogs listened to without really knowing why.

She wasn't in charge.

She had simply lived long enough to recognize certain moments when they arrived.

This...

felt like one.

Mike stepped into the room holding his phone.

"Darling?"

Darling trotted over.

She recognized that word.

Her name.

Mike smiled.

"I've got somebody asking for another picture of you."

Darling tilted her head.

Another picture?

Why?

Morgan wandered over.

"So..."

Darling looked up.

"So?"

Morgan smiled.

"Leave your tongue hanging out."

Darling blinked.

"...Why?"

"Trust me."

Morgan's eyes twinkled.

"There's a human looking at those pictures."

Morgan laughed.

"and he’s a sucker for that smile."

Darling had absolutely no idea what any of that meant.

But she liked Morgan.

So when Mike crouched with his camera...

she let her tongue hang out.

Just a little.

Somewhere in Michigan...

August Ivy Wachter smiled at the photograph.

He didn't know why.

Not exactly.

Something about that expression.

Not perfect.

Not posed.

Just… kind.

He found himself asking Mike for one more picture.

One more video.

Not because he needed convincing.

Because he wanted to be careful.

The right dog deserved that much.

Darling, meanwhile, simply wondered why this mysterious human kept wanting to look at her.

Humans were odd.

Larry wandered over.

"So? Do you think he likes you?"

Darling shrugged.

"I don't know."

Larry smiled.

"I think he does."

Neither of them noticed Sprocket nearby.

At least...

not until he quietly muttered to himself.

"I think it's finally ready."

Nobody asked what he meant.

Nobody ever did.

A few days later...

Mike called again.

"Darling."

His voice sounded different.

Gentler.

More certain.

Darling stood.

She looked toward Larry.

Larry looked back.

Neither spoke at first.

Finally...

Larry smiled.

"I guess this is it."

Darling nodded.

"I guess."

Larry tried to sound brave.

"Tell me what the Outside is like."

Darling laughed softly.

"If I ever figure it out..."

"...I'll call."

Larry laughed too.

"...How?"

From across the room...

without even looking up...

Sprocket adjusted something on his workbench.

"I've been working on that."

Nobody paid him much attention.

Sprocket cleared his throat.

Everybody ignored him.

He clears it louder.

"...Excuse me."

Still ignored.

Finally… he trots over carrying...

the phone.

It's held together with...

a clothespin...

two bottle caps...

twine...

half a tennis ball...

and something that looks suspiciously like a TV remote.

Sprocket proudly presents it.

"Here."

Darling blinks.

"...What's that?"

"Telephone."

Larry laughs.

"...That's not a telephone."

Sprocket looks offended.

"...Not with THAT attitude."

Darling politely takes it.

Because… why not?

She thinks:

"...I guess this is how phones work."

Sprocket whispers...

almost to himself...

"...It should work..."

Long pause.

"...Probably."

Mike gently lifted Darling into a travel crate.

She didn't struggle.

She wasn't eager to leave.

She wasn't afraid either.

Mostly...

she was curious.

The other dogs hardly noticed.

Breakfast had become much more interesting than goodbyes.

One continued chewing.

Another barked at absolutely nothing.

One had already fallen asleep again.

Only Larry remained at the window.

Watching.

Waiting.

Wondering.

The vehicle slowly disappeared down the driveway.

Larry kept looking long after it was gone.

Beyond the nursery...

there was an entire world neither of them understood.

One of them...

was about to find out.

Act I — A New Planet

Chapter One — The Arrival

The first time I saw her, I wasn't looking at a dog.

I was looking at a question.

For months, I'd been asking myself whether I was ready to love another little companion after losing Morgan. I'd studied adoption listings like a baseball scout studies prospects. Every picture, every description, every road trip that almost happened—it all felt important. I wasn't looking for the "best" dog.

I was looking for my dog.

When the young man pulled into my driveway after driving more than two hours, my heart wasn't pounding with excitement.

It was pounding with uncertainty.

What if she didn't like me?

What if I didn't like her?

Those thoughts don't make for very romantic adoption stories, but they're honest ones.

He opened the vehicle, and there she was.

A little tan Maltipoo.

Curly-haired.

Quiet.

Much smaller than I'd imagined.

She wasn't trembling dramatically or hiding behind someone. She simply looked at the world the way a tourist might step onto a completely unfamiliar planet.

Everything was new.

Everything deserved caution.

I remember thinking she looked younger than I expected.

Not just in age.

In spirit.

There was something unfinished about her confidence.

She wasn't a broken dog.

She was simply carrying more questions than answers.

The young man handed me her crate, her food, a few belongings that had been part of her old life, and then, almost as quickly as he'd arrived, he was gone.

Just like that...

she belonged to me.

Or maybe, more accurately...

we belonged to each other.

Neither of us knew it yet.

The house suddenly felt different.

For nearly half a year it had been painfully quiet after Morgan's passing. Every room carried memories. Every routine had a missing partner.

Now there was movement again.

Tiny footsteps.

Curious glances.

Long pauses.

A little nose collecting information one scent at a time.

She wasn't exploring like an adventurer.

She was conducting interviews.

"Can this chair be trusted?"

"What about this hallway?"

"Who exactly is this Grandpa fellow?"

I tried not to crowd her.

That was harder than it sounds.

When you've waited months to hug someone, your instinct is to reach.

Instead, I learned to wait.

Sometimes love begins with a hug.

Sometimes it begins by giving someone enough room to decide whether they want one.

That first afternoon, I watched her quietly inspect her new world.

The kitchen.

The living room.

The bedroom.

She noticed things I had long stopped seeing.

A refrigerator that hummed.

A ceiling fan.

A doorway.

A patch of sunlight on the floor.

Everything was extraordinary because everything was unfamiliar.

Looking back now, I realize she was just as brave as I hoped she would be.

Not because she marched confidently into a stranger's home.

Because she stayed.

She kept taking one more step.

Then another.

And another.

That was courage too.

I wish I could tell you that I instantly knew we'd become inseparable.

I didn't.

I only knew that this little dog had traveled a long way to get here.

And that both of us were about to begin learning an entirely new language.

Not English.

Not barking.

The quiet language that slowly develops between two souls who decide, day after day...

"I think I can trust you."

That first day, neither of us had many words.

But somewhere beneath all that uncertainty...

the first conversation had already begun.

Chapter Two

The Nursery

Larry had never met a human.

That wasn't unusual.

Very few puppies had.

The Nursery wasn't on Earth.

It wasn't exactly in Heaven either.

Sprocket insisted there was an important difference, although Larry had never quite understood it.

Mostly...

it was home.

Rows of tiny cottages.

Rolling hills.

Thousands of puppies.

Every imaginable breed.

Every imaginable personality.

Every one of them waiting.

Not waiting sadly.

Waiting hopefully.

Because someday...

someone would need them.

Larry's best friend was Sprocket.

Nobody knew exactly what Sprocket was.

He certainly wasn't a puppy.

He carried tools.

Built things.

Fixed things.

Invented things that probably shouldn't have worked.

Fortunately...

they almost always did.

Almost.

Larry found Sprocket underneath something mechanical.

Again.

"What are you building?"

Without looking up, Sprocket answered,

"A better way."

"For what?"

"Conversation."

Larry tilted his head.

"Conversation already works."

"Not THIS conversation."

Sprocket slid out on a little wheeled board, grease on his nose.

"I'm going to let puppies talk to each other after they leave."

Larry blinked.

"They leave?"

Sprocket smiled.

"Eventually."

Larry didn't like the sound of that.

Chapter 3

A New Planet

(Glimmer Narrates)

I don't remember much about the ride.

Mostly smells.

Cars smell different when they're going away from home.

The young man kept talking to me once in a while.

I wasn't listening.

I was busy wondering where all my familiar things had gone.

Then...

we stopped.

The air smelled completely different.

Grass.

Trees.

Birds.

A squirrel...

somewhere.

There was also another smell.

One I had never smelled before.

Grandpa.

I didn't know he was Grandpa yet.

He was simply...

The New Human.

He looked excited.

Humans always look excited.

Sometimes that's good.

Sometimes it isn't.

So I decided to be careful.

Careful has always worked pretty well for me.

He wasn't loud.

That helped.

He didn't grab me.

That helped even more.

He kept looking at me with the same expression people use when they find something precious.

That made me a little nervous.

I wasn't sure I was precious.

I had never been to this planet before.

Everything had different smells.

Different floors.

Different sounds.

The refrigerator talked.

The ceiling moved.

There was a very interesting room with a giant soft mountain.

I wasn't sure if I was allowed on the mountain.

Humans have many mysterious rules.

Sometimes they smile when you jump.

Sometimes they don't.

It's difficult to keep track.

The New Human mostly watched me.

I appreciated that.

Some humans are always reaching.

He mostly waited.

That felt...

nice.

I wasn't ready to trust him.

But I wasn't ready to leave either.

So I kept walking.

One little step.

Then another.

Maybe...

this planet wouldn't be so bad.

I LOVE introducing Heckyl & Sugar here.

Because every inventor needs skeptics.

🤣

Imagine...

Larry walks into Sprocket's workshop.

Copper wires.

Old telephones.

Switchboards.

Light bulbs.

Tiny antennas.

The whole place looks slightly dangerous.

Larry:

"So..."

"How's the phone?"

Sprocket:

"...Almost."

Larry:

"You said that yesterday."

"I was optimistic yesterday."

Then...

Heckyl walks by.

Looks at the mess.

"So..."

"Still trying to call Earth?"

Sprocket proudly:

"Absolutely."

Heckyl:

"How's that working?"

"...No comment."

🤣🤣🤣

Sugar giggles.

"You know..."

"...letters have worked for centuries."

Sprocket:

"They take too long."

Heckyl:

"So does this…….

The Switchboard

I suddenly have a visual.

Rows...

and rows...

of little indicator lights.

Each puppy has one.

Thousands.

All quiet.

Dark.

Peaceful.

Every day...

Sprocket flips switches.

Turns knobs.

Adjusts antennas.

Nothing.

Not one light.

Larry:

"Maybe..."

"...it's impossible."

Sprocket quietly:

"I've been told that before."



THEN...

Not next chapter.

Not even the chapter after.

One day...

while Sprocket is underneath the switchboard tightening a bolt...

...

PING.

One tiny light.

🤣

Nobody notices.

PING.

Again.

Sprocket slowly looks up.

PING.

PING.

PING.

One switch begins blinking.

Tan.

Female.

Earth.

He just...

stares.

Larry:

"What?"

Sprocket whispers...

"I think..."

"...somebody's calling."

🥹

Brother...

I actually got goosebumps.

Because THAT becomes one of those moments readers remember.

Then...

Heckyl.

🤣

"I'll believe it when somebody answers."

Sugar.

"It probably short-circuited."

Sprocket doesn't argue.

He simply...

picks up the receiver.

...

Silence.

...

Tiny voice.

...

"...Hello?"

Dr. Kat's Observation

Newly adopted dogs often spend their first days gathering information rather than seeking affection. To us, they may appear timid or detached. In reality, they're conducting thousands of tiny "safety checks." Every calm interaction tells them a little more about whether this strange new world is predictable and safe.

Looking back weeks later, it's easy to forget how brave those first quiet steps really were.