“My Son Wants A Pitbull”

“Is that a cat?” asked Jake, pointing at a small muddy creature cuddled next to a tree. “No honey, that’s a dog, an American terrier,” replied Mrs. Harvey automatically, now used to the hoards of questions her 7 year old son asked all day every day.

“What’s a terrier?” he asked. “It is a breed of dogs,” his mother replied, relieved that she was almost at the school gate. She looked down at her son, his one hand holding a solar system mobile he had made for his geography class and the other holding her hand, his brown inquisitive eyes looking at her, waiting for further explanation.

“I’ll tell you all about them when you get back from school, alright?” she said, kissing him on his cheek. She watched him until he entered the school gates before turning around and heading home, hoping he wouldn’t destroy somebody’s project, just like he did in his science class last month.

Jake was a good kid, he got good grades, was friendly and respectful too. But he was a bit of a meddler; it was like he liked getting into trouble. Only last week Mrs. Anderson from next door had complained that Jake had trampled all over her roses, and when his mom confronted him he claimed he was just helping out. “I was coiling the water hose that was lying around in the garden,” he exclaimed, “I didn’t want Mrs. Anderson to fall like Mr. Hackle, the gardener.”

His mother didn’t know what to say, so she sent him to apologize to Mrs. Anderson. And when he returned with a half eaten muffin in his hand an hour later, she knew her 70 year old neighbor had forgiven him. Jake was on the monkey bars with Alex, his best friend, during recess, when he saw the little puppy again, this time licking itself under the bench in the corner of the play area. “It’s the puppy again,” he exclaimed, pointing under the bench.

“Is it yours?” asked Alex. “Nope,” Jake said, “I saw him on my way to school this morning, mom said they are called American terriers.” “He must have a name on the collar, my Uncle Brown has a dog and he said all pets are supposed to have a collar with a name and everything,” Alex explained, “let’s go check.” They both walked to the bench and kneeled down to check for a collar. There was none. Jake picked him up, and sat him in his lap; the puppy whimpered a couple of times and then started rubbing his nose against Jake. Jake and Alex started giggling and tickling the puppy back.

“Should we tell somebody about him?” Alex asked, “he needs a shower, and will want to go back to his mommy too.” “Yeah let’s go tell Mrs. Nelson about him,” Jake said putting the puppy back under the bench. The puppy tilted his head to the right, and made a small questioning sound, “I’ll be back in 2 minutes,” Jake said getting up, and they both headed towards their class teacher standing at the far end of the playground.



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