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Writer's pictureJesse Campbell

Puppy Teeth



Nan sent me down to the pet sematary. She told me to look for a wooden cross marked with the name Bandit.


“It’s fresh dug,” she explained to me. “Should be easy to find. Easy to get up.”


I went at night with a lantern. It was easy to get up.


Bandit was a yellow dog, small and soft to the touch. He hardly looked like he ought to be dead.


“Poisoned, poor thing,” said Nan, pulling the puppy out of my hands. “Gone too soon.”


“Why’d’you want him?” I asked, rubbing my hands. I wanted to touch that nice, soft fur again.


“Most’ve taken to burning the bodies these days,” explained Nan, cradling the dog like it was asleep. “Such a waste. The teeth. Puppy teeth especially. Grind ‘em down. Good for healing tonics. Very valuable. Now, off to bed.”


It made me sad to think of Bandit having his teeth pulled out. That night I dreamed about playing with Bandit. Sometimes he was a happy, yellow puppy. And sometimes he had a mouth full of blood and dirt.


When I woke up I saw Nan talking to someone at the door.


“And it’ll stay this way forever?” said the man.


“Never age a day,” said Nan. She was holding something in her arms. Whatever it was was wriggling like crazy. “You’ll never have to say goodbye.”


The man put a few coins in Nan’s hand and took the bundle. Only as he walked away could I see that it was a dog.


“Was that Bandit?” I asked Nan as she closed the door. She dropped the coins in surprise.


“Goodness!” she said, holding her chest. “No, of course not. I just found that dog this morning. Man gave me a reward for giving it back.”


I knew she was lying, but I suppose I didn’t want to know why.


Two weeks later, she sent me back to the pet sematary for a kitten named Kit. This one was mostly black with blotches of white here and there. I didn’t ask what she needed it for.


The next morning, there was another man at the door, but this one was dressed in funny black robes. A small crowd of people were standing behind him.


“It’s a different cat!” said Nan. “Prob’ly from the same litter is all.”


“It’s Kit,” said some woman I couldn’t see. “I can tell from the markings.”


“I’m sorry,” said the man in black robes. “We’ll have to destroy it. It’s unnatural. And now…”


Someone yanked Nan out of the doorway. Suddenly everyone was looking at me.


The man in black robes came into the house and knelt down in front of me. “How old are you, son?”


I thought about it. “I’ll be 52 in June.”


Outside, Nan was howling. The man sighed as he stood up. “Take him, too.”


They led me out of the house. I asked if I could play with Kit, but no one even answered me.


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