The little dog is lost.

One night, I had a terrible dream. In the dream, my little dog was lying peacefully in its bed. At first, I thought it was asleep, so I walked away quietly. But after waiting for a long time and seeing that it still didn’t move, I got worried and quickly ran over, bent down, and touched it—its body was as stiff as a rock.

“Ah! The dog is dead!” I cried out in shock. Without even putting on my shoes, I rushed into Mom’s room and grabbed her arm, shouting, “The dog is dead! Mom, the dog is dead!” Mom followed me outside immediately, touched the dog, and her face changed too. We hugged each other and cried together.
“Baby, wake up! Why are you crying?” Mom’s voice sounded in my ear as she gently stroked my head. I suddenly opened my eyes to realize it was just a dream! I rushed out into the yard, and the little dog in its bed heard the noise; it immediately wagged its tail and barked at me. I held it tightly, my heart still pounding wildly.
But the good times didn’t last long. The dog really disappeared. That day, when I came home from school, the yard door was open, and the dog’s bed was empty. I called its name and ran around the neighborhood again and again, searching everywhere—the flower beds, the corridors, even near the snack shop—but I couldn’t find it anywhere, not even the bone it loved to chew on.
It was already completely dark when I walked home, too tired to eat anything for dinner. I still often dream about it, dreaming that it wags its tail and jumps into my arms. Little dog, where on earth are you?