David, now 13 years old, sits on the porch steps, a wistful smile on his face as he watches children playing with a football. Memories of Figo, his loyal German Shepherd, flood back. "I remember how Figo would dart across the yard, always beating me to the ball," he murmurs to himself, the warmth of the sun mirroring the warmth of his memories.

David picks up the photo, tracing his finger over Figo's image. "Seven years, and it still feels like yesterday," he whispers. He recalls the days spent playing with water guns, the yard filled with laughter and barks, the sun setting slowly in the distance.

David stands where Figo once lay, his eyes closed, recalling the feel of Figo's fur beneath his fingers. "You were the best friend I could ever ask for," he says, a gentle breeze seeming to answer his sentiment. The memories play in his mind like a cherished film, each scene vivid and alive.

David's mother enters, handing him a steaming mug of cocoa. "Thinking about Figo again?" she asks gently. David nods, a small smile on his lips. "He was my partner in crime," he replies, feeling the warmth of the cocoa seep through the mug to his hands, much like Figo's presence used to warm his heart.

As David gazes at the stars, he feels a sense of peace. "Goodnight, Figo," he whispers, believing that somewhere, his beloved friend watches over him. The connection remains, an unbreakable bond between boy and dog, etched forever in his heart.