A low growl vibrated out of his snarling jaws. Drool trickled over the cruelly glinting teeth and onto the cracked concrete sidewalk where he stood in a threatening stance. His brown eyes, which portrayed nothing but pure hatred, pierced the small toddler’s who stood stiff with fear in front of him. The little girl, four years old at the time, was frozen in a trance, too afraid to run, or even tremble. A scream was caught in the back of her throat that would not escape. A lower growl from her assailer at last set it free. “Mommy!” the girl shrieked. The dog pounced with a sickening half-growl and half-yelp, and all Asa remembered was hitting the concrete with the dog’s hot breath on her neck. * * * “My favorite animal has to be dogs.” “Hmm?” Asa was jerked out of that nightmarish recollection as she realized her friend Jenny was talking to her. “Hello?” Jenny joked. “Anybody home in there?” “Sorry” Asa replied, shifting her crystal-blue backpack to her left shoulder. “I was just thinking.” “About what?” Asa shrugged. Not many people knew about the incident of her and the aggressive dog, even though it had been all over the news when it had happened. Asa rubbed her throat gently, running her finger along the familiar five-inch-long scar that ran along the side of her neck, curving into the middle of her throat. Jenny, like most people who knew Asa, had in the past asked where she got the scar, but Asa always replied evasively, “In an accident.” So far, she hadn’t met anyone who had pushed to know the full story. “Wanna hold him?” jenny offered, nuzzling the small black-and-white Great Dane “Well, you have to see my neighbor’s new puppies,” Jenny went on with her dialogue. “There are three of them, two boys and a girl, and they are just the cutest things in this world.” “What?” Asa interrupted, totally lost in the conversation. “Weren’t you listening to me previously?” Jenny chided playfully. “I was talking about Ella’s three puppies.” Asa shuddered slightly at the thought of the huge Great Dane. “Ella’s Mrs. Lander’s dog, right?” “Yup, and the puppies look just like her.” Jenny gave a little skip. “They’re just not as big.” Yet, thought Asa. Ella was a sweet, gentle giant, but her size intimidated Asa immensely. And the thought of three more giants like her… Asa shuddered again. “Are you all right?” Jenny queried, looking into her friend’s face. “You look pale.” “Oh no, I’m fine.” Asa straightened and smiled, but it was rather strained and unnatural. Jenny looked unconvinced, but she didn’t pressure Asa into telling. “So, do you want to come see Ella’s pups with me?” Jenny continued. “Mrs. Lander is letting me come over today, and…” “No!” Asa almost shouted, with a slight tremble in her voice. Jenny’s mouth fell open. Asa blushed and shuffled her feet more quickly. She was almost home. Just around this corner here… “I better go, Asa,” Jenny murmured with a half-confused, half-apologetic glance. “See you.” “Bye, Jenny,” Asa sighed with a slight wave of her hand. When her friend had left her, Asa dashed down the sidewalk to her house, as if a mad dog was right at her heels. The door slammed behind her as she jumped through it and skidded into the kitchen, taking a deep breath as she came to a halt. The smell of homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies greeted her like a warm hug, snug and assuring. Asa dropped her backpack and kicked off her new dress shoes that were required for the school’s dress code. Asa followed the delicious smell to the oven, where the oven light illuminated two pans of yummy goodness. BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEP! Asa jumped as the timer blared its warning, and the clatter of footsteps was heard on the stairs. Asa’s eighteen-year-old sister, Ann, hurried into the kitchen, snatched an oven mitt, opened the oven door, took out pan number one, set it on the counter, and said, “Hi, Asa,” all in one whirl of activity. After Ann took out the second pan, she asked, “Could you get out the cooling racks, Ace?” Asa rummaged through a cluttered cabinet and found the racks. She set them on the counter. “Ann?” “Yes?” Ann thrust a spatula underneath one lightly toasted cookie, and then let it slide off onto a rack with a helping shake. “Do you think that people should follow all that advice about facing their fears?” Ann crossed her arms and leaned against the counter thinking. All fear affects your life, Asa” “Well, I guess,” Ann replied. “I mean, people can’t just live in fear all their lives.” “But what if the fear is something minor?” Asa touched her scar briefly. “Something that won’t affect your life very much?” Ann crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, thinking. “All fear affects your life, Asa.” She peered knowingly into Asa’s face. “Are you thinking of dogs?” Asa nodded, taking a warm cookie and gazing at it steadily. “I just—well, I hate being afraid,” Asa admitted, breaking the cookie in two and watching the crumbs bounce on the tiled floor and skitter under cabinets. “It’s like I’m a wimp, or something. I know most dogs won’t hurt me, but I don’t believe it.” Ann leaned over and pulled Asa to her side, her shiny black curls touching Asa’s light brown forehead. “Did something happen at school that scared you, Ace?” Asa shook her head. “All that happened was Jenny invited me to go see three puppies, and I freaked out.” Asa sighed. “I think puppies are adorable, but they scare me to death.” Ann’s brown eyes shone with under- standing. “So what are you going to do about it?” “What?” “Are you going to be afraid, or are you going to face your fear?” Asa was silent, fidgeting with the broken cookie in her hands. At last she looked up. “I think I need the
Animals
A Winter Walk
It was one of those winter days that seemed much more like spring. There had been a storm yesterday but the only trace of it now was the slightly dark mist suspended in the vast open sky. Weak sunlight crept through the open windows, casting a timid sort of light throughout the room and a quiet chirping of birds could almost be heard outside in the maple tree. It was just one of those days begging for me to go outside and find out what it would bring. “Will someone take Scooter for a walk?” I heard Mama call. Jumping up, I skipped down the stairs two at a time, grabbing our dachshund’s leash as I flew down the hallway. “I will!” I called out loudly. As I found our little puppy snoozing on the couch I approached him quietly, not wanting to startle him, and then whispered gently, “Hey, little guy. Do you feel like going outside with me today?” Which was of course a very unnecessary question, considering the fact that he was already starting to wake up, wagging his tail excitedly. “I take that as a yes, then,” I said happily, picking him up and burying my face in his warm fur. Outside the weather was cold and crisp, but at the same time there was a type of warmth in the air that filled me up like a helium balloon, so that I was so full of happiness I might have lifted off of the ground. I tugged gently on the leash and then whispered softly, “Come on, little guy. Let’s run!” It was just the perfect day to run And with that we were off, racing against the wind that was whipping my long hair out behind me. We were racing against the sunlight that trickled towards us gently, creeping serenely into my little puppy’s eyes, illuminating his look of sheer delight. It was just the perfect day to run. I looked over to my side to marvel at how Scooter’s long back and powerful little legs could propel him forward so quick and gracefully. I was laughing inside, as his big, silky ears flapped like maple leaves in a windstorm. He was panting slightly, and I realized that I was too. Our breath turned into small little clouds that teased us and then floated away wispily, finally diffusing into the rest of the foggy air. The grass beneath my shoes was crunching slightly and I was amazed at the thin layer of frost that laced every single blade of grass, big or small. I thought of how not a blade was left bare, how incredible it was that every piece was wrapped in the tiny little ice crystals. We ran for a while, until our hearts pounded like drums. The chilly air started to sting my throat like a sharp knife piercing through my neck, down my throat, and into my heaving lungs. The dog was so swift, it was hard to keep up, but gradually his pace was slowing down. His eyes were widening in concentration as he looked up at me, signaling that our walk was now over. I nodded, unable to muster the breath required to speak, and turned towards home. One step at a time, we worked our way back to the front door. Then I turned to my beloved puppy. “Oh Scooter, I love you so much. What would I do without you?” My little dog’s eyes dilated and he raised a paw hopefully. I put my hand out, and he jumped into my arms. I hugged him tightly and felt his soft fur against my face. Then I carried him inside the house where he knew that warmth, love, and dog biscuits would always be there for him. And he would be there, for us. Emina S. Sonnad, 12Ojai, California
Memories of Moon
When the wind mows on a funeral, it cries with the heartbroken. It mourns with the tearful. It drops bright leaf handkerchiefs from its shaking fingers. When the wind watches as a coffin is lowered into the ground, it bows its gray head in sorrow. And even as the last regretful people get into their cars to leave, the wind stays a moment longer, fingering the fresh grave, before whipping away to think of what it has witnessed. But when the wind blew on Moon’s funeral, it didn’t cry. It didn’t mourn. It didn’t even need a handkerchief. The coffin it should have watched was too small for its tastes, the mourners too few for it to even deem this a proper funeral. After all, it was spring, and the wind was no more than a lazy-boy breeze, blowing loose things around like a bored child kicking at tin cans. The wind didn’t care about Moon. But I did. * * * Moon had her start as a small white kitten in a pathetic little “Free to Good Home” basket at a yard sale. Mom and Daly were digging through piles of stained clothing and broken toys as I wandered around, bored out of my wits. Yard sales were ridiculous to me, like saying, “Here, take this stuff. It’s so gross I don’t want it anymore,” or “We were too fussy to sell our stuff on eBay, so we’ll sell it here at the same outrageous price.” I had just skirted a large haystack of skis and bent ski poles when I saw the basket. It was across the street, at the very foot of the driveway, too obvious that these kittens were unexpected and unwanted. “Do you want one, Jackie? Mommy says that they’ve all got to go today” I was a cat-lover born and bred, growing up in a house where it was impossible to wear anything black in public or to escape the dreaded litter-box routine. I was totally ready to bring another member into the family, as one of our three cats, Smoky, had died of old age just a few months before. So when I saw that basket, there wasn’t anything to stop me. I practically plowed over Mason, the neighbor’s seven-year-old, as he stood in front of the basket. He looked up at me with big sweet eyes and asked, “Do you want one, Jackie? Mommy says that they’ve all got to go today.” How could I resist? Carefully, I inspected each of the darling little creatures. They were all white but one, which was gray. I was drawn immediately to the gray one. He likes to stand out from the crowd, I thought in amusement. However, I could see that he was skittish and shy of people, backing away from my hand as far as he could. Mom would never let me make a project out of accustoming him to people, so I turned to the next. That was Moon. She was as friendly as her brother was nervous, and I was able to pick her up and rub my fingers through her silky kitten fur. She was the one for me. * * * “No, Jackie. Absolutely not.” That was Mom’s first reaction to Moon. I begged, “But Mom, Smoky’s been gone for months, and I need another cat in the house to complete our trio.” “We don’t need any more vet bills than we already have. Vaccinations cost money, and we’re still paying off Smoky’s heart medication.” She looked down at Daly and held up a hideous pink T-shirt with orange fringe that I strongly suspected had been white when the shirt was new-bought. “How’s this, Daly?” Mom asked, changing the subject. Daly hopped up and down, babbling as only a four-year-old can: “Mommy, Mommy, my shirt! My pink shirt!” Mom looked satisfied and slung the shirt over a growing pile on her left arm. “So can we, Mom?” I asked, thinking she might be in a better mood now. “Can we?” “No.” My attempts to persuade her failed miserably for several minutes, until my stroke of genius saved the day. I was dragging my feet as Mom flipped through racks of women’s clothes. Daly, likewise, was whining and sighing with boredom. Then it hit me. Slyly, I asked, “Hey, Daly, do you want to see a kitty?” She faced me, pouting. “We’ve got kitties already. I want to see toys!” “But we don’t have kitties like this.” I took her hand, careful not to pull too hard, and added, “They’re a lot smaller than Oreo and Tiger. Come on, let me show you!” She finally stopped digging in her heels and, reluctantly, followed me across the street. Her hesitance evaporated when she spotted the kittens in the basket. With a squeal that made Mason cover his ears, she pounced on the gray kitten and was about to scoop him up when I quickly tugged her hand away. “No, that one is scared, Daly. Look at this one.” I placed her small fingers on Moon’s head, and the kitten, playing her part perfectly, began to purr and rub against Daly’s hand. My sister was enchanted. “Jackie, let’s get this one,” she cried, and I didn’t stop her when she picked up this kitten. I trusted Daly with holding cats; like me, she had grown up surrounded by them— Dragon, Floss, Smoky, and our remaining cats, Oreo and Tiger. Triumphantly, I led Daly and her precious bundle back across the street, where I faced Mom with a grin. “And thus, our new kitten joins the family.” I gestured to my sister. Daly proudly held up the small white kitten. Mom really did try to rally her forces and resist, but her genes and mine were too closely linked. She was as much a cat-lover as her daughters. “All right. We’ll keep it. Boy or girl, and what’s its name?” “Girl.” I closed my eyes for a moment to think of a
