Timmy’s Secret

Timmy Johnson slipped out of the house through the bedroom window, with his German Shepard, Shultzy, tagging along. “I know, Mom said I have to stay in my room. Don’t you go back and tell her I’m gone.”
He grabbed his fishing pole and tackle box, then followed the path through the woodlands to the rippling mountain stream. We’ll be back before dark,” he said. “Mom said this was ‘time out,’ so here we are, spending a wonderful time out.” He pitched the lure across the rapids into the deeper water, then stroked Shultzy’s fur on the back of his neck. “Don’t you agree?”
“Woof!”
The sudden pull on his line almost jerked the pole out of his hand. That’s when Timmy realized Shultzy wasn’t agreeing with him. He had seen the fish leaping out of the water.
“Wow! This one’s a whopper. Wait’ll I show Dad.”
After fifteen minutes playing the line, careful to let the fish run, then reel in the slack, he brought the prize catch to shore. The biggest rainbow trout he had ever seen. “I bet this one’s a record for around here,” he said. “Ten pounds, at least.”
Then he realized he had a problem. After releasing the trout into the stream, he slowly walked home, his head hanging low. He climbed back through the window and stopped at the dresser, staring at the mirror. “I’m sorry,” he said, partly to himself but mostly to God. “I’d like to tell my story, because it has a really great ending. But if I do, I’ll have to admit my sin.”