Kristen K.: Memoir


Four Pound Fur Ball

      My sister, Katelyn, and I have always wanted a dog. Our childhood was basically filled with powerpoints and cardboard presentations about why we should get a dog. My mother and father have always said no, it was too much work and it wouldn’t fit in with our strict schedule that we followed everyday.

      They also said that Katelyn never ate her vegetables and would at least consider getting a dog as long as she stopped hiding the broccoli from her plate underneath the couch cushions.

      I knew that was a lie.

      My parents never really had pets when they were younger, therefore, they could never wrap their heads around having an “unpredictable animal” in the house. The only dog that my mom ever had was a white husky that my grandfather shot because it didn’t follow exactly what he said as soon as he said it.

      Things were soon going to change.

      After the last day of 7th grade, my mother, Katelyn and I dragged my father to Puppies and Kittens of Westport, just to carry on the heavy topic of getting a dog, not expecting anything more. Once we arrived, in two separate cars, one that picked me up from a friends house, another coming from an office building in New York, I felt alive again.

      I had spent most of my time the past month at my friend’s, Alex Harris, house because of the new Leonberger puppy, Skye, they had recently gotten. After spending so much of my time with Skye, I felt the need for a puppy more than ever.

      Once we walked in, the bell on the door announcing to the store that we had arrived, my mother’s eyes lightened.

      “Tommy look! Thats him! Look, Tom! Do you see his white paws? It’s like he’s wearing mittens!” My mother grabbed my father’s arm, gripping tight. 

      “Fran,” my father said, crushing her excitement, “I can see.”

      “But he is a cutie,” I could see a smile starting to crawl across his face.

      “So can we get him?” Katelyn questioned sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

      By now, my father has moved onto rubbing the puppy’s stomach because he had rolled over onto his back.


      He paused.

      He’s just joking. That’s what he does. Everytime he comes into my room at five o’clock in the morning telling me school is canceled, I never believe him, so why should I now? Plus, there’s no way he can just change his mind and say yes after ten years of “no way.”

      “Yes.” He finished his sentence.

      “Haha very funny dad,” I rolled my eyes.

      “I’m serious.” He repeated.

      My sister and I glanced at each other, trying to figure out what was happening.

      “Tom, what are you doing? You can’t mess with them like that.” I heard my mother whisper to him.

      “I’m not messing around, Fran, we can get the dog.”

      “What?!” Katelyn sounded confused.

      I nudged her, deciding that we should just keep our mouths shut and nod along with whatever he said. I didn’t want his mind to change.

      Not only a couple minutes later, I was in the backseat of my mothers navy blue Audi with a dog, my dog curled up in my lap. On top of that, I could not believe my mother let a dog in her car.

      Her weekly “ritual” was wiping all of the seats down with baby wipes, washing the car herself, cleaning the mats and picking up loose wrappers that got left behind. She did lay towels across the back seats, though. She was getting there.

      The puppy was looking up at me with his huge dark brown irises. He was shaking at first, but then started to relax and fell asleep.

      I closed my eyes and smiled.

      I got my puppy.

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