I laughed, and then took a bite of my corn dog. “Sit,” I ordered, pushing Ivy, my new golden retriever puppy, out of my lap. I reached one hand out, keeping my corn dog a safe distance from her face, and pushed her rump down to the floor. Ivy’s eyes followed my food.
“Good girl.” I tore a little of the tip off and gave it to her. She ate it quickly, and then jumped up for more. Laughing again, I pushed her down. “Sit.” She sat. “There we go.” I lowered my arm and she jumped up, grabbing our snack out of my hand. She ran off with it just as my mother walked in. She gave me the look.
“Kaila,” she sighed, sitting on the couch. “How many times do I have to tell you not to eat on the floor when the dog’s awake?” Grabbing the remote off of the coffee table, Mom flipped on the television. “You know,” she continued, “she’s going to take whatever it is you have.”
I walked back into the kitchen got another corn dog—this one, I would eat—and settled onto the couch next to my mom. I tore the breading off first. “I know, I know. I’m trying to train her, though, see?” Placing the bread on my tongue, I looked at the screen. The news was on; she had turned to channel fifty-six which was always news.
“…to repeat our recent news bulletin, there has been an outbreak of what vegetarians and doctors believe is a severe form of rabies. It is recommended that you take your dog in for a checkup if you notice any strange behavior,” the blond woman looked down at a paper, “such as drooling, discoloring eyes, or a walk that has been described as ‘a strange lurching -hopping movement.’ Infected dogs have also been reported to catch, kill and consume wild animals such as birds.” A picture of an infected animal showed on the screen. The black lab’s eyes were a light pale color, even the iris was lighter. Its coat was wet all over the chest, and its posture made it look like a tiger ready to pounce.
I shivered. “Gross.” I glanced at Mom’s face. She looked pretty disgusted as she changed the channel.
Mom nodded. I got up, seeing she had put on some old movie that was playing on Lifetime. It looked like The Notebook. I gave her my own version of the look and she chuckled.
That night I had a dream of Ivy. She had the disease I heard about on the TV that afternoon.
I had walked out of my closet, in the dream. I think I had been hiding from something. Ivy was sitting next to my bed, the golden fur of her chest wet and stained by blood. I covered my mouth as my eyes traveled down to the bloody carcass in front of her. It was so mangled I couldn’t figure out what it was. I looked up at Ivy. Her eyes mirrored the black labs eyes from the news bulletin.
“I-Ivy?”
Ivy started towards me, in a weird lurching-hopping walk. I took a step backwards.
My new, fifty dollar, one hundred percent cute golden retriever puppy was scaring me. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as cute as she was when she was covered in blood.
She kept coming towards me, moving quickly, and closing the gap between us. I stumbled back again, tripping and landing onto my back. Somehow the closet wasn’t there anymore—a fact I didn’t question because…because, well, things like that happen in dreams. Ivy pounced on me, her face right above mine. I was paralyzed by fear, unable to get her off me. Taking advantage of my moment of weakness, she shot her head forward and bit my cheek. I screamed in the dream and woke up.
The dream had been so vivid, so real. I almost expected to see Ivy covered in blood at the end of my bed, my foot in her mouth or something equally disgusting. But no, she wasn’t bloody or eating anything. She just slept peacefully, rolled over on her back, feet in the air. Her position was comical and I laughed at her.
As I sidled off my bed, she woke up. Ivy looked at me and stood up. Then, as if deciding following me wasn’t worth getting up, she lay back down. I smiled and scratched behind her ears. Sleeping puppies had to be the cutest things ever.
I walked down the stairs, the carpet muffling the sound of my footsteps. My mother was in the kitchen when I walked in. In her hand was a cup of coffee. She took a sip and set it down to flip a pancake that was bubbling in a pan on the stove. She smiled at me. “Morning.” Mom glanced at the clock. I followed her gave. Nine thirty. “You’re up early,” she said, cocking an eyebrow.
Shrugging, I gave Mom a hug as I walked past her into the kitchen. I pulled open the door to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice along with a frozen package of ground beef. “Maybe this’ll thaw faster out of the fridge.” I set it on the counter, closed the refrigerator and got a glass from the cabinet. As I poured the juice, my mom laughed.
“You try functioning at five thirty in the morning.” I laughed, too. My mom and I almost had a roommate relationship; my dad had been gone on a business trip for several months, so we basically were roommates. Or at least house mates.
“Touché.”
Ivy walked into the kitchen and sat on the floor facing us. She yawned loudly and I laughed. “How do sounds that big come from something so small?”
“Ever heard a baby burp?”
I shook my head and went to sit at the dining room table. The walls were painted a light baby blue color, much better than the pale hospital green they used to be. My mom came breezing in and pushed my straight black hair in my face and set a plate in front of me. I scowled slightly, pushing the hair out of my face and drowning my pancakes in syrup. Ivy had, as was expected, followed us. She settled down under my chair and I rubbed her side with my foot.
“I was thinking of going to the mall today. I need to get some incense cones. Do you want to come?” Mom asked. I nodded and we finished eating.
The rest of the day passed quickly. My mom and I went to the mall after we finished eating breakfast and wasted an hour and a half walking around, buying few things we probably didn’t need. Then we stopped for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. It was Sunday, so the mall and restaurant weren’t packed, and the majority of my friends were at church and wouldn’t be available until past noon.