Children's Stories Continued - Day 10

From the first day of kindergarten to stolen berries

From daddy's closet to another galaxy

From the video game king to the spelling bee

I loved your little dudes and dragons. The BOOOOOMS and Tickkkkkks were delightful.

We had a blast reading children's stories yesterday. We will continue.

There are times when kids deal with difficult issues. I wrote the following piece to capture the loss of a pet.

Gizmo’s Spot
Alfred W. Tatum
January 11, 2010
5:57pm on the Metra

This was his third trip to the doctor in as many weeks. The hope we once had was gone. Last night was the hardest for us as he lay in the dark basement in a spot that comforted him. He refused to eat, refused to move. Nothing worked. I was not only concerned for him; I worried about his best friend, Andrew. The loss of a friend is hard to swallow when you are really young.

“He’s going to make it dad.”

These were Andrew’s words earlier in the week when he heard about his friend’s disease. I tried to explain that some things are just out of our control. He covered his ears and refused to listen to me. This was the first time Andrew acted stubborn. He was usually an easy-going kid. The idea of losing Gizmo changed him.

“Look what I got!”

These were mom’s words when she surprised Andrew with a kitten. Frankly, we were all surprised. This was Andrew’s first pet. He had his very own kitten. Small. Cute. Playful. The kitten started reaching for the string on mom’s white coat.

“Mom look, he likes your string. I got a string.”

Andrew ran up the stairs and removed a string from an old shoe. He rushed down the stairs almost tripping before sliding on the floor to be close to Gizmo. He pulled the string and Gizmo chased it. He held the string over Gizmo’s head and Gizmo reached for it. They were in string heaven.

“This is the one,” I said.

“Mom, can he sleep in my room?”

“We have to help him get used to his litter box first.”

“How long will that take? I will take him to the litter box when he has to use the bathroom.”

“Cats are not like dogs, Andrew. They train themselves.”


Gizmo was going to his litter box before bedtime. Andrew left his bedroom door cracked and a nightlight on hoping that Gizmo would find him. The next morning, to his delight, Gizmo found a spot near Andrew’s feet.

“Mom, Gizmo slept in my bed. He likes me.”

For the next three months, Andrew found Gizmo at his feet when he woke up in the morning. Then one morning, Gizmo was not there. Instead, he slept in the corner of Andrew’s closet. He did not follow Andrew down the stairs to breakfast as usual. He did not chase after the string. Gizmo stared at Andrew with his adoring eyes, but he did not move.

“Do you think Gizmo is overweight,” my wife asked.

“I notice some bloating in his stomach, but the rest of his body looks normal.”

“We should take him to the doctor just to make sure everything is okay.”

Three days later, my wife took Gizmo to the veterinarian. By this time, he had stopped eating. His water bowl was full at the end of the day. The bloating was not going away. Gizmo stopped running, stopped chasing the string; he stopped being, Gizmo.

It was a gray Friday afternoon, but Gizmo seemed happy in the doctor’s arms. His eyes turned toward Andrew as he was lying on the examination table.

“It’ll be okay, Gizzy. The doctor just needs to help you get better. You’ll be chasing strings again before you know it.”

The doctor decided to keep Gizmo overnight. This was Gizmo’s first night away.

“Is he coming home tomorrow, mom?”

“Yes, Andrew. The doctor just wants to make sure he’s okay.”

Gizmo came home Friday afternoon, but he was not better. Andrew was just happy to have his kitten home.

“Mom, Gizmo made a mess on the floor.”

This was the first time Gizmo failed to use his litter box. He did not have the energy to go to the basement. My wife called the doctor and explained what happened. Gizmo would have to return to the doctor on Monday. He was placed in the basement over the weekend because he did not have the energy to climb the stairs.  It was a long weekend. Gizmo was starving himself. The smell of home cooked potpies did not entice him to eat. We blasted the music and danced around him with dangling strings. He followed us with his eyes, but he did not move. We were all sad.

I was at work on Monday evening when my wife called.

“Well, I just received the news about Gizmo. He will not be able to return home."

Immediately, I thought about Andrew. As suddenly as Gizmo came into our lives, he was leaving us. I asked to speak to Andrew before my wife shared the sad news.

“Hey Drew.”

“Hey dad.”

“How was school?”

“Not so good. I was asked to write about a problem and explain how I dealt with it.”

“What did you write?”

“Nothing. I just live my life. I don’t have any problems. I am just a happy kid.”

“We’ll talk about it when I get home tonight.”

“Here’s mom, bye dad.”

Gizmo had twenty-four hours left. We decided to let Andrew stay up as late as he wanted to be with him. He decided to sleep in the basement on the couch near Gizmo’s bed. I went down to check on them just after midnight. They were both sound asleep. Andrew and Gizmo were enjoying their last night together.

“How was it,” I asked my wife.

“It was pretty sad. It seemed like he knew what was going to happen.”

“Why do you say that?”

“During his final trip to doctor’s office, he refused to come out of his carrying case. He just meowed and meowed and meowed. I never heard him sound like that.”

We shared the news with Andrew tonight. He did not say much at the dinner table. This was unusual.

“I think I am going to bed early tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll be up to tuck you in.”

I went upstairs twenty minutes later and found Andrew’s door shut for the first night in three months. There was no need to keep it open. I heard him crying softly. When I cracked his door, I saw him lying at the other end of his bed. Andrew was lying in Gizmo’s spot. My son’s best friend was gone and he knew it.

Today, you will write another children's story that aligns with the aims of our Preamble.