5: My Life with Animals

When I was five, our dog died because my father wouldn’t take her to the vet. “Animals aren’t people,” he told the man next door. “I won’t waste money on them unless they give you milk or meat.” A day later the man brought us a wiggly mutt. In the garage, the man and I rubbed its belly. “It’s a boy,” the man said. “How do you know?” I asked. He undid his belt and showed me the difference between boys and girls. “If you tattle,” he said. “I’ll take this dog back.” And I believed him, since people aren’t like animals.