My Puppy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
a toy puppy

Submitted: April 21, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 21, 2008



It, at a time, was sleek, smooth against my palm when I’d pick it up off the floor, if I’d pick it up off the floor. Soon however the white paint slowly peeled itself off onto the house corners, kitchen cabinets, the gravel walkway leading to the pool, the asphalt. Its fat hour glass body rolling along the clear plastic wheels, dimpled by pebbled marks, proof of its forceful contact with the ground so many times. The bark diminished now, a high pitched yip into the mix of noises.
I pulled the string between my curled fingers, leading its muzzle wherever I wanted it to go: through the field, losing all but its roughened head beneath the sandy colored grass. The red wheels began to stick, refusing to roll until the sand had been completely removed from the plastic. Instead, I shortened the string, the stubby black tail dangling a foot from the ground.
And now I spun, the surrounding mountains blurred into one leveled plateau. I could feel my puppy slightly slipping from my grip, but I didn’t worry, I never had let go. I let the string give way a little more, a tightened finger holding on.
My father’s students had begun their stretching for the work-out that had brought us here. They sat in a circle, muscles burning, a burn that after the entire year refused to fade away. Between warm-ups, they look at me, a laugh I hadn’t yet categorized as friendly or taunting coming from their throats.
There was one, I noticed, who kept making comments, who I get the feeling wass taking the fun too far. His hair is red, vibrant red, gleaming red above one eye that squints, almost shut, rain or shine.
I stopped a moment, to see them staring at me, smiles creeping onto their faces. It was uncomfortable, as yet even as spinning had lost its fun, I continued, my puppy again a tug against my finger.
I can’t explain how it happened, or what was going through my head at the time, but before I knew it, the tug was gone, a thump followed, and the red head’s vision blurred. My puppy lay on the ground bloodied, collected more sand in its little plastic wheels.

© Copyright 2018 Aislin Kane. All rights reserved.

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