So I'd always wanted a dog. First, I'd wanted a little husky puppy. Then a golden retriever pup. But my dad hated the mess they made, so as always, the answer was an elaborately described 'no'. Actually, it hadn't always been an elaborately described no - that developed after the begging I'd done, but anyways.
So you'd imagine the sense of surreality I'd felt walking down the street to my house that Friday, coming in the door to find a dog's lead on the table, dog bowls on the floor, a dog bed in the sun room. I'd asked my mam if we were babysitting a dog, because I didn't want to seem straightforward about it, as I'd be embarrassed if it turned out the dog wasn't going to be ours. Mam laughed. "No..."
"So we're getting a dog?" I pressed hopefully. "Yes. Only if your behavior's good," she replied casually. Usually, this only happens in movies, but I literally cried tears and tears and tears of happiness. So I bombed her with catapulting questions, all about the unknown creature we were letting into our home. She gave nothing away. I told her I was going outside, to my friends.
As I walked up that road, I imagined what it would be like to wake up in the morning to a wet, pink tongue, licking me all over. When my friends came outside, I told them all about my new dog. "Oh, no way!" Ruth exclaimed in awe. "You're so lucky!"
"Yeah... Maybe it and Patch could be friends," Ana said. I smiled, and we ran back to mine, checking if my surprise package had arrived yet. "Fírinne, she won't be here until your dad gets home. He'll be bringing her here," Mam told me. I sighed, and told my friends. We went back to their estate, and played for a couple hours. We made up names and a song for the chosen name, Bloom.
At around seven o clock, when we checked again, Dad still wasn't home. So we sat in my playroom and waited. The sound of a car pulling up caught my attention. I looked out the window, and saw my dad's friend Tom's Jeep's doors opening, and my dad stepping out with a cardboard box advertising popcorn on it. I ran to the front door, and said, "Dad, are we getting popcorn to celebrate the new dog?"
"Eh, Fírinne, could you climb up the money tree and grab us a fifty?" he said sarcastically. I felt my face growing hot. I ran up to him, and looked in that brightly coloured box. The weirdest fluffy black and white thing about the size of a fist was lying in the corner on a tattered old pink bathrobe. I gasped, and lifted it out. It yawned and unfurled itself. I smiled with glee. The little thing opened its eyes, and looked right at me. I held it up, and examined it. "It's a boy!" I exclaimed. "No, she's a girl." I looked again. "Oh...." I blushed. "Her name is Bloom," I told Dad. "Balloon? What sort of a name is that?" he joked. I sighed and laughed.
Ruth and Ana came outside, and played with Bloom. She stumbled around the grass with us, licking us, and sniffing us. My parents smiled, and joined in, petting her back, and calling her over, to train her to her name. Later that night, more of my friends that Ana and Ruth told about Bloom came over to pet her. I felt so popular that day. So for a few weeks, Bloom made me popular. Well, Cleo, as we called her after three days of everybody calling her 'Balloon'.