English I Honors
17 November, 2011
A Girl’s Best Friend
After three months dreading by so silently and so monotonously, such a surprise had illuminated my seemingly gray day to a blinding yellow. Roughly sixty days had lagged by since the awful monster by the name of Breast Cancer had taken his final hit on Kizzie, our latest canine kin. The year-long battle had left our once warm, loving home cold and deserted of all good feeling. Devastation welcomed himself into the house and invited anguish into me, my mother, my father, and my sisters’ hearts. Many mornings were filled with mourning. Many afternoons were filled with gloom. As Kizzie abandoned a hole in ...view middle of the document...
My body lifted as if I’d lost fifty pounds. The sight of a precious new companion dusted off my heart and cracked my face into a smile with squinted eyes overwhelmed with shiny joy.
My parents simultaneously laughed at my planned discovery. “We drove to pick him up last night while you and your sister slept,” my mother explained. She added, “We have to go buy his supplies so you’re going to have to watch him just for a while.”
I comprehended not one word my mother spoke for I was busy marveling at the puppy. I hadn’t even noticed my parents leave. The puppy and I were the only ones in the room in my mind anyway. We were the only two on Earth.
However, I was awakened from my love daze by the sound of the garage door closing. I glanced out the window, finally hearing the words my mother had spoken before. There I sat with the tiny gray bundle. As I picked it up, I gazed into eyes that captured every color of the rainbow and as the puppy yawned, I took in the sweet, soft smell of puppy breath. Our first moment was shattered by an extending squirt of pee. A boy, I thought. “We’ve got many years together ahead of us, little boy,” I laughed.
We named him Kunta Bleu Howard. He had the most human-like personality any of us had ever seen in an animal. Everybody who met him had agreed. Kunta was an immediate love. To me, he was a pestering brother, a most loyal friend, a sympathetic listener, a daredevil play buddy, even a pose-happy model whenever we had our own photo-shoots. Kunta was the only other I confidently trusted. When I’d imprison myself in the walls of my bedroom, he would be the only exception to enter. I planned to move him with me when I grew too old for my parents’ house. That’s why he shocked us so devastatingly but only two years later….
In the creases of firecrackers being purchased, grills being heated, and everybody painting red, white, and blue, the blistering heat stood miserable.
“The cookout is at 4 o’clock,” my mom announced as my sister, my father, and I chowed on breakfast, “so we need to be dressed by 3:30.”
“You need to help me, bay’ ” I told Kunta. “I have no idea what to wear!”
“Nope,” my father disagreed “, he has to go on his morning jog.”
As I primped for the party, Kunta was pressing on his jog. I manicured my nails. Kunta mended his muscles. I flipped and flat-ironed my hair. He performed his...