I still remember the afternoon when I first met Jimmy. The sun filtered through the window panes of the old residential building, casting dappled light on the floor. I was only 8 years old then, clutching my mother's and hiding timidly behind the door, watching the little golden retriever in the cardboard box—it was probably only as big as my schoolbag, with wet black eyes like two water-soaked black grapes. It gently nuzzled my hand, and the warm touch instantly dispelled all my strangeness and unease. My mother smiled and said, "From now on, it will be your little companion. Give it a name." I stared at its tail wagging happily and blurted out, "Jimmy!"
And that name stayed with us for 13 years.
In my childhood, Jimmy was my most loyal playmate. Every day when I came home from school, it would lie at the door in advance. When it heard the sound of the key turning, it would excitedly scratch the door and bark "woof woof". When I opened the door, it would jump into my arms and press its slobbery face against my cheek. On weekend mornings, I would take it for a walk in the park downstairs with its leash. It would chase butterflies, but always look back immediately after running far away, afraid that I would disappear. On rainy evenings, when I sat at my desk doing homework, it would lie at my feet, resting its head on my slippers. Its warm body was like a small hot water bottle, dispelling the cold of the rainy day. Once, I didn't do well in an exam and hid in my room crying. It squatted quietly beside me, gently nudging my hand with its nose as if to comfort me. At that moment, I felt that it understood all my grievances.
As I grew up, from primary school to middle school, then to college graduation and starting work, Jimmy also grew old gradually. Its fur was no longer as shiny as before, and it walked more slowly. It could easily jump onto the sofa before, but later needed my help to get up. I was busier and busier with work, and had less time to accompany it, but every time I came home, it would still drag its old body and slowly walk to the door to greet me. I knew it was always waiting for me.
Last spring, on a sunny afternoon, I went to work as usual. Before going out, I touched Jimmy's head and said, "Wait for me to come back and bring you something delicious." It rubbed my palm with its head, and there seemed to be something hidden in its eyes. I didn't pay much attention at that time, but I never expected that this would be my last goodbye to it. That night, when I came home from work, I pushed open the door and didn't see the familiar figure lying at the door. My heart tightened, and I began to look around the house, shouting "Jimmy, Jimmy", but there was no response. I rushed out of the house and searched the community over and over again, asking neighbors and security guards, but no one said they had seen it. I walked along the path in the park where we used to go often. The wind blew through the leaves, making a rustling sound, like the sound of its footsteps when it used to run, but I could never find that fluffy figure again.
In the days that followed, I looked for Jimmy every day, posted missing dog notices and posted online, but there was still no news of it. I often sat on the sofa, looking at its old dog bed and toys, and tears flowed unconsciously. I always thought: Did it know that it was about to leave me, and didn't want me to see it suffering, so it chose to leave quietly on that sunny afternoon? It was so old, would it be in danger? Would it be hungry? Countless questions swirled in my mind, and every time I thought about it, my heart ached. I really hoped it could come back to me, even if it was just for me to touch its head again and hear its bark again. My old friend, I really miss you.
As the days passed, I slowly accepted the fact that Jimmy had left, but I still couldn't let go of my longing for it. Until one day, when I was scrolling through my phone, I accidentally saw an article about wool felt craftsmanship. The article said that excellent wool felt craftsmen could simulate the demeanor of pets to 95% similarity. When I saw those lifelike pet wool felt statues, a glimmer of hope suddenly ignited in my heart. I thought: Maybe I can customize a wool felt statue of Jimmy, so that it will be like it never left me.
I began to ask around for craftsmen good at making pet wool felt. Recommended by a friend, I found feltque. I sent them photos of Jimmy—photos of it being lively and cute when it was a puppy, energetic in its middle age, and gentle and kind in its old age. I also described Jimmy's characteristics in detail to them: its eyes were dark black, there was a small patch of light-colored hair on its nose, its ears always drooped, and its tail would stand high when it ran. I told them that I hoped this statue would be as similar to Jimmy as possible, so that when I saw it, it would be like seeing the real Jimmy.
During the waiting days, I looked forward to the arrival of the statue every day. Finally, on a weekend morning, I received a courier. On the courier box was written "feltque Custom Wool Felt". I took a deep breath and carefully opened the box. When I saw the wool felt statue inside, my eyes instantly turned red—it was exactly like Jimmy! Its eyes were the same as I remembered, with gentle black pupils. The small patch of light-colored hair on its nose was also perfectly restored. Its ears drooped, and its body posture was just like when it usually lay on the sofa, so lifelike. I reached out and gently touched its hair. The soft touch was like that of the real Jimmy. At that moment, I felt that my Jimmy had really come back. It was a face that I could only see again in my dreams, familiar and warm.
Now, this wool felt statue is placed on my desk. Every day when I am tired from work, seeing it is like seeing Jimmy accompanying me by my side. I know that the real Jimmy has left me, but it will always live in my memory. And this wool felt statue is like a bridge, connecting me with my old friend, making me feel that it has never been far away.
