Stephanie Meyer owns all, I only imagine

11 months prior.

~o0o~

"Bella, honey, close your eyes!" Renee's voice called out from the barely cracked interior garage door. Rolling my eyes I shut off the kitchen faucet. The birthday cake timer was due to buzz any second. As long as Renee didn't take too long I could indulge her for a minute.

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes, Mom." The hinges creaked as Renee opened the door wider. There was a soft, throaty whimper as Renee got closer.

"Hold out your arms," she instructed. Obediently I turned around and put both arms in front of me like I was grabbing a bag of groceries.

"Surprise!" In my arms Renee thrust a small warm body. A brown puppy, barely the size of a loaf of bread, was staring up at me. A hand's breadth of white fur dusted the puppy's chest. Floppy ears dominated the puppy's head, and already its paws were the size of my palms.

"Isn't she lovely," Renee crooned.

'No', I thought. Her eyes were slightly cloudy with a hint of yellow in the eye whites. Thick discharge pooled in the corners of her eyes. Mixed in with her breathing and confused puppy whines I could hear faint wheezing.

"Mom, she's sick."

"I've always wanted to get you a dog, you know. Ever since you were a little girl. Now that you're here, I can! I did!"

"Mom," I spoke sharply to Renee. If I let her, she'd wrap herself in the excitement of the moment and not answer any of my questions. "Where. Did you. Get the dog."

"The man said it's only a little cough. It'll go away soon."

"What man?"

"The man with the puppies." I could hear the unspoken "silly" tacked on at the end of Renee's sentence.

"Did you get her at a pet store?"

"What do you think you'll name her?" Renee asked, ignoring my question completely.

"Can you take her back? She's ill."

"Why'd you want to do that?" Renee looked at me accusingly. "You know what they'll do to her. They'll kill her." Renee mouthed the last two words like the puppy understood what she said.

"Did you get her from a guy on the side of the road?"

The timer buzzed. Renee flitted away to the stove, drawing a pair of oven mitts out from a drawer. She beamed as she pulled the cake pans out of the oven.

"Bella, honey, these look so good. You've really outdone yourself this time." Deflected. I could ask Renee all the questions I wanted about the puppy's origins and she'd answer none.

"I'm taking the dog to the vet," I told Renee. "I'm also grabbing cash out of the freezer tin."

"What about your birthday dinner, sweetie?"

I turned and leveled a look at my Mom.

"Dead puppies make horrible birthday presents."

Beta'd by the fabulous WritingforOne and Brooke M.

My favorite feature of the "Manage Stories" properties is the "Traffic View" feature. The largest majority of readers are from the United States but I see readers are from countries like the Republic of Côte d'Ivoire, Sweden, Argentina among many others. 47 readers decided to follow my story, 18 have favorited this idea of mine. Which is absolutely mind blowing to me.

If you can, leave a review. They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.