The next day, my family returns to the pet hospital to visit Deebee. I am the first to run into his room. Slowly, I walk through the doorway. That's when Deebee barrels into me and knocks me onto the ground! I laugh, and he slurps the inside of my mouth. His tongue tastes like yucky rubber.
Something is different about Deebee. He still has the band keeping his ribs together, but now he has a doggy wheelchair strapped to his legs! It looks funny, but he can still move—just not as fast.
Deebee gets into the car with me. Mom and Dad drive us home. I don't even look out the window because I'm too happy to see that Deebee is alive.
As soon as we get home, Deebee and I jump out of the car and run down the street to Nathaniel's house. I can't even describe how excited I am. I feel like screaming for pure joy. I rap on the door, and Nathaniel opens it. He takes one look at Deebee and squeals,
"YOU'RE ALIVE!"
We both wrap our arms around Deebee. He licks my ear. It tickles. I whisper to him, "You are not a stray anymore, Deebee. You have a home now. It's with me."
YOU ARE READING
Deebee
General FictionAll nine-year-old Matthew Reusha has ever wanted was a dog. He can't connect with his parents, who believe he's nonverbal from spite, and he can't connect with the boy across the street who beats him up for playing with his toys. All at once, Matth...
