kiki come home

My dog might get sent to the police. At least, that’s what my brother’s friend Ross says. My parents brought Kiki home earlier today even though the landlord told us that dogs aren’t permitted here, but it was only for a little while until she would get sent to the dogsitter and we would resume our lives as law-abiding renters again. But then Grant opened the door for no reason and Kiki ran out and started chasing the neighbor’s kids, who didn’t know any better and didn’t stop running when the manager told them to do so. One of the kids tripped and got hurt, and now his head is bleeding and Ross says that he might get a small concussion and if he doesn’t recover within three days, the police will take Kiki and she’ll get a shot from the needle and then it’ll be goodbye. Actually, no it won’t, because I won’t be there, we won’t be there so it won’t really be bye-bye. I’ll be at home sitting at my desk, learning SAT vocabulary words and she’ll be in maybe a dark room with a mob of white coats and mouthguards maybe like in the movies and then one of them will hold her eight-pound body and another will stick the needle through her and then it’ll be bye-bye Kiki. And I’ll be sitting at home wanting to be there so that I can scream at them, “She’s not a bad dog she really isn’t it’s not her fault she’s the best dog there is just let her be she’ll be better I promise we promise just let her be.”

My parents promised me a future like this: after February, when the contractor finally finishes building our house, we’ll get Kiki back and we’ll live in a nice five-bedroom home with enough space for everyone and thick walls so no one will be forced to listen to Mama when she’s on the telephone. There would be a nice living room and an island in the kitchen that we could eat on and walk-in closets and clean bathrooms and no rats to speak of. We would have Kiki to cuddle with on cold nights and Kiki to walk with on warm ones and Kiki on every other night for holding and feeding and everything else.

It was a nice picture while it lasted. Today Ross came in and said that the manager called the landlord who got angry and then the neighbors’ daddy came over and let loose a string of curse words and called Mama a bitch and Grant just stood there staring at everything even though it was his friend who got hurt and he looked like he didn’t know what to do. And then Kiki looked at everyone and whined and the neighbors’ daddy became even more furious and I learned a whole new list of swear words and now I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I can do.

I’m letting my imagination get ahead of everything. Please with a cherry on top let everything be okay let the neighbor’s boy get well soon and let Kiki stay so we can send her to the dogsitter’s house and let the neighbor’s daddy stop cussing and let Grant stop staring dumbly at everything and let my parents stop worrying, they’ve got enough to stay awake about and let me stop crying, I don’t like crying about things that might not happen but maybe will, it makes me feel silly and everything’s up to speculation and I don’t like that either, I need things to be set in stone and okay like it should be.