Killer Cake

Tyler Harris

Mr. Jockers

ILA period 3


Killer Cake


The whole house went completely hysterical. I was holding Skye and my mom was talking to poison control and my sister was crying and my dad was looking up what to do online. We were all scared out of our minds.


It was Memorial Day, 2016. I remember because the Indianapolis 500 was on TV and I was watching it with my dad. We had just gotten our first dog as a family, Skye. She was a Leonberger, an extra large breed known for their calm temperament. At this point, she was an extra small puppy (you could call her the “runt” of the litter) and only about 9 weeks old. She weighed almost 7 pounds, but we could see how huge she would get by the size of her paws (they were about the size of my hand).

My mom and dad had hosted a dinner party the night before, and of course they just had to invite my sworn enemy and his family to come, but that’s a different story for another time. There was tons of food and desserts, including a Triple Chocolate Hershey Cake with extra chocolate chips and icing on top. You can probably see where this is going right about now, but let me explain…

So I was sitting on the couch like I said, and I decided to go check on Skye. I got up and then started to hear the crinkling and crackling of a plastic bag coming from the mudroom where Skye was supposedly sleeping, only to walk in to see my dog finishing up the last bites of – you guessed it – the chocolate cake. Not only had we forgot about it the night before so no one even got to have a bite of it, but it had a bigger volume than she had.

“MOM!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “DAD! SKYE ATE THE CHOCOLATE CAKE!”

“What?” my mom asked, so paranoid I could almost feel it. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure!” I said, with a shaky voice.

Time stopped. I could feel the anxiety growing around me, but I just couldn’t process what was going on. How could such a great and delicious dessert turn into such a disaster? How could this be happening? Why Is This Happening? WHAT SHOULD I DO?

This is all I could think. Over and over again, like a broken record. I was afraid. Scared. Scared that she would get sick and hurt. But in the back of my mind, all I could process was that she could die, despite the fact it was only a month after we got her.


Such an intimidating word. Death. We all fear it, but it has to happen at some point right? There’s no way to stop it, right?

“Tyler, what the heck are you doing, let’s go!” my sister screamed at me, in her usual impolite manner.

“Sorry,” is all I could manage to reply.

The car ride was quiet. Skye sat in the middle of my sister and me. She seemed fine at the moment, but she was panting a lot. I listened to the sound of the tires hitting the gravel. It felt cold in the car, but I think it was just me. I looked at the red stitching on the seat in front of me. It reminded me of her favorite toy: A big and felt squeaky red bone.

After we arrived at Greenfield Animal Hospital, we all got out of the car and walked into the vet office.

I could feel a cold breeze walking in. The first thing I noticed was the smell of ammonia and bleach so strong you could almost taste it. I could hear dogs barking and computer keys clicking and see owners hugging their pets, doctors running around, and people working at desks in the front.

One of them came up to us and asked if we had an appointment. My mom said we did. We were instructed to wait in one of the rooms, and the doctor came in a few minutes later.

She quickly examined Skye and asked us about what happened and then took her to the back.  

It was silent at first, just like the car ride. There were only three chairs in the room we were in, so I sat on the ground against the coffee brown cabinets, stored with supplies.

“She’ll be fine,” my dad said. He always tried to be positive.

No one said anything.  We had nothing to say.

Later, the doctor came back in; without Skye this time.

“We got most of the chocolate out of her system, but we’re going to have to keep her overnight,” she said. “We’ll put her on an IV so help flush it out. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”

In the end, Skye was fine. And we learned a lot from what happened, nevertheless, we did have to learn it the hard way. Not only did we bone up on our responsibilities as new dog owners, but we joined together as a family and got through a hard time with one another.

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