He opens his eyes and he cannot tell if the panting had started before or after he jerked his head upwards in utter disbelief of the things he had just seen. It takes a few seconds and several more unsteady breaths for recognition to kick in and, when it finally arrives, it does so late enough that now he must control the anxious adrenaline rush he felt for failing to understand he was somewhere deemed safe.

A small whine calls his attention to the warm and fast breath that was coming from his right side. When Arthur turns his head, still feeling lost, his gaze is met by this massive wet snout and, before he can have any kind of reaction, the massive Husky’s head rests on his shoulder; the warmth of its body and softness of its fur bringing a level of comfort to Arthur’s soul that his own mind and heart were unable to produce.

Arthur wishes he could feel surprised by his dog’s actions, that he could get up from bed thinking how odd it was that his best companion was so ready to comfort him, but, if anything, Sylvester was so used to his human having constant nightmares, that he by now knew when Arthur was close to waking up, the same way as every day, and positioned himself to be of service almost on cue.

There were no other noises meeting Arthur’s ears other than Sylvester’s fast breathing, and yet the explosion had sounded so real that Arthur was shocked to see his bedroom as immaculate as always. He could not understand how pristine the place looked, when a mere second ago, it was in shambles.

‘Sylvester is here,’ Arthur thought to himself as both his hands hung tight to the dog’s fur. Knowing the effect of the spoken word, even if he were its only audience, he forced himself to repeat the words, aloud this time. ‘Sylvester is here. I can touch his fur and I can feel … I can feel his fur and that he cares for me.’

There was a part of Arthur that was hoping for some kind of affirmation to his words, but the only sound remained the dog’s fast breathing.

‘This was a tough one, Sylvester,’ Arthur said, slightly pulling away from the dog so he could properly look into its ocean-blue eyes. ‘I’m glad at least you weren’t in it. Give me just one second and we’ll go to the bakery together, all right?’

Every morning, Arthur walked his dog to a bakery three blocks away from his house and came back through the opposite side to give both of them some exercise. The journey back home is always punctuated by small pieces of the baguette Arthur buys being shared between the both of them. Arthur and Sylvester had made such a habit of this that the neighbours half expect the duo to pass by their doors and windows.

Arthur goes to the in-suite bathroom to relieve himself, brush his teeth, and wash his face. When he leaves back into his bedroom, Sylvester is nowhere to be found and a lot of things happen at the same time: a large explosion, followed by his bedroom getting destroyed. Arthur opens his eyes and he cannot tell if the panting had started before or after he jerked his head upwards in utter disbelief of the things he had just seen.