STICKS

I only opened the gate to let Grandma in. Granddad says the ice cream man would not have seen anything, but I hate the ice cream man, his silly pink and yellow van and its stupid music. If he didn’t play that stupid music every time he came round my street my Mum wouldn’t shout at me every day and say ‘No you can’t have one, How - Many - More - Times, just go and play’ It’s always No, No, No, No, No. Everything fun is No.’
Granddad bought me Sticks when I got a broken bone in my back when I fell down the bank at Tizzy’s dad’s farm. Well, his name is Alan really but we all call him Tizzy, he’s ten and got the best Meccano set ever, he said he would hold the rope with the tyre on the end and slide me down the bank at the bottom of the garden by the steps down to the chickens but he let go. He told me not to tell I hurt my back, but I could only crawl on my bum and it really really hurt, then he said I was a cry baby and not to tell about the rope.
Granddad took me to get Sticks from the pet shop. He said I had been very brave but Dad said I was grounded for not doing as I was told and staying away from the bank. I didn’t mind being grounded, I couldn’t walk anyway! Granddad said a puppy would be company. I picked Sticks because he had a white leg and a brown leg and two black legs and his feet were different colours and his ears were bigger than his head. He looked like he had been stuck together. Granddad said Sticks was a good name. Mum said Puddles would be better cos he kept wetting on the floor. He cried at night and Dad said he would have to ‘go’ unless he stopped.
The weekend Granddad looked after me Sticks slept on my bed and didn’t wet or cry, so Mum let him sleep there all the time. He sits under the table and eats crusts off my toast. Sometimes I hide bits of my dinner in my hankie and stuff it up my sleeve when no-one is looking but now Sticks eats it instead.
Well, not now cos the ice cream man killed him. I hate the ice cream man and his stupid music. I never want ice cream again, I just want Sticks. I miss his licks on my face and playing tug with him. I don’t want another dog and I don’t want to sleep in my bed. Mum washed my quilt and now I can hardly smell him, but he still smells on my blankie and I can see him when I put blankie by my nose. Mum doesn’t wash that cos I cry at night cos it doesn’t smell the same, so Sticks is still on my blankie.