Antoine peed
right in the middle of
my parents’ bed
the next night.
Even though he was already
very housebroken.
I think he knew
bad things
were about to happen.
I think he knew
doggie camp was going to begin
the very next morning.
“We’re never leaving our bedroom door open again,”
as they stripped the peed-on sheets off their bed.
“Don’t be mad,” I said.
“Antoine’s scared. That’s why he did it.”
“Maybe he could learn to bite his nails instead,”
my dad said.
“Do you think doggie camp teaches nail-biting?”
“Don’t joke about doggie camp,” my mom said.
“I’m counting on doggie camp.”
She shook her head at Antoine
as she gathered the dirty sheets and bedspread.
Then she and my dad left, to do laundry.
I knelt down beside my dog.
He lay flat on his belly, with his chin on the floor.
His ears looked even floppier than usual.
“Don’t be scared,” I told him.
“Camp is only two weeks.
Even if you hate it at first,
you’ll get used to it.
For a second I wondered
if Pearl would think I was being too nice to Antoine.
But then I decided,
I didn’t care what Pearl thought.
I could be nice to my dog if I wanted to.
