Young Southern Student Writers-Winners of 2013

Saulye Nichols Grade 6 Heritage Middle School 4005 Polar Springs Road Ringgold, GA 30736 Mrs. Reeves

Sleep Tight, Fuji

The air conditioning filled doorway instantly cools me off in the humid month of April. Tears are streaming down our faces as we enter the animal hospital. I realize this will be the last few minutes I ever spend with my dog, Fuji, who is more a brother to me than anything else.

Leaving school seems like such a blurry, undetailed dream. My mom had burst through the door of my fourth grade math class, her eyes big like a lost puppy. She asked to speak with me in the hallway. Already, I knew something bad was going on.

“We have to take Fuji,” she said, “to the animal hospital.” My heart sank. Tears lined the edges of my eyes as I tried to hold everything in. I briskly walked back into the classroom and gathered my things.

“My, um, my…dog is sick. He’s bleeding,” I stuttered to Mrs. Kaminski. “We have to take him to the hospital.” I choked on the last few words. I couldn’t believe it.

Saying the words made me realize it was actually happening. I started choking on nothing and gasping for air. You know that thing you do when you are trying to stop crying? Well, that’s the thing I did, except for I hadn’t even started crying yet. Then, suddenly, I exploded. My classmates were worried because they had never seen me cry before. I don’t like crying; it’s embarrassing, but at that moment, I didn’t care what I looked like.

Now, we are being led to a room just off the lobby of the animal hospital. We sit down and Grandmother has Fuji encased in her arms, my mom right beside her.

Grandmother is trying to be brave; I can tell. On the other hand, my mom is a wreck.

We try to say happy things and comfort each other. The vet’s assistant enters the room, and we tell her that Fuji needs to be put to sleep because he is bleeding every time he goes to the bathroom.

“Which one of you is going to stay with him while I give him the shot?” she asks.

Grandmother volunteers because my mom and I just can’t.

We sit in the car waiting for the text that means Fuji is gone. My mom and I decide to call my Aunt Donna and my cousin, Peyton, to tell them the horrible news.

Just as she hangs up the phone, it beeps, and I know what that text says.

Donna has to come dig Fuji a little grave because my mom, Grandmother, and I aren’t up to it. Peyton and Granny, my great-­‐grandmother, come with her. Fuji’s lifeless body is being cradled in Granny’s arms. I want to see him one last time before his small body is placed in the grave, which we’ve filled with his special things. I move the little pink blanket that has his body in it. Big mistake. His lifeless, blind eyes are still half open.

I slowly slink back to my room, and all I can think about is how Fuji pierced my lip one time when I was three. My mom always thought it was because I was hissing in 215