I never knew where charlie went when he vanished. One minute he’d be asleep on the couch the next thered be this weird noise and hed come trotting up the drive. wagging his tail like he hadnt seen me in years.

He was a good dog and i never knew where he went… that is until i saw the painting. There he was. At first i wasnt sure… I meant there have to have been a great many middle sized yellow dogs throughout the course of history. But not like Charlie. No dog’s like Charlie. Not with that black spider-mark in the middle of his forehead, that lopsided half-smile or the blue and red collar with the yellow lightning bolt streaking through the center. No dog’s ever been like Charlie, but there he was right next to the emperor, half-smiling his ass off in Palais des Tuileries.

I thought I’d steal it, the painting. That I could show Sherry and everybody else who thought I was crazy. Blow their small minds.
No.
It seemed better to let Charlie go wherever he goes, and to be happy when he comes back