The Furry Surprise
by Lyndsey, seventh grade writer
My heart was pounding with anxiousness. I was running down the stairs, and there underneath the Christmas tree, I saw a puppy. I didn’t realize until afterwards, but I had been screaming the moment I saw the dog. My excitement had taken over my eight-year-old little body, and before I knew it, I was downstairs trying to pick up the furry surprise. He was black, furry, chubby, and to top it off, there was a red bow tied around his neck. As I was complimenting all of his greatest features, I felt a sudden pain in my arm and looked down to see the puppy’s teeth sinking into my skin. I yelped “Aaaah!”
The next thing on my mind was what am I going to name this rambunctious pup. It didn’t matter what my mom, my dad, or my brother wanted to name him; I felt that I was in charge. My friend had always named her pets after presidents—like Lincoln, Hayes, and Madison—so I thought that was a wonderful idea and in my head started to come up with president names. As if it just struck me, I came up with the perfect name.
“ Franklin,” I shouted. Franklin Roosevelt Anderson sounded grand to me!
After that, I went outside in the powdery snow and played with Franklin. I stuck my tongue out and on it plopped a snowflake. At that moment, I was the happiest eight-year-old girl alive. Franklin and I romped around; I didn’t even care that inside my other Christmas presents awaited me.
That moment, was the starting of a friendship that has lasted me ever since. My puppy is no longer a puppy, but he is a dog. Although his maturity and size may have changed, the bond we have together is unbreakable.
(Click here to view/print Lindsey and three of her classmates' memoirs)
