Tag Archives: Booker

Booker’s Rabies Test

“Mr. Schilde?” Daddy nodded and extended his hand. The uniformed man, looming large in our doorway, reached out to shake it. “I’m Walt Richards with Animal Control, Mr. Schilde,” the man said. I stared up at the ID badge blinking. He … Continue reading

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Booker

Daddy never allowed pets. That’s probably why I fell so much in love with Jessi’s pet rat. Booker was the closest thing I ever had to a pet of my own. I made him up… well, mostly, sort of. I made up all the … Continue reading

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Oatmeal for Breakfast

“Sit up straight, Flower Anne! You don’t want to grow up with bad posture!” Mama slid my bowl of cereal in front of me. Oatmeal again. I wanted to slump even more. How could I care about posture at a … Continue reading

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