My First Day Of School

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It 's funny what it 's you remember as a child. I don 't remember my third birthday or my first day of school, I don’t remember running around the playground or what my favorite food was. But I remember very clearly the day my cat died. It 's been 10 years since, and still the most memorable memory of my childhood. My sister Riley and I were twins. We were always thinking ahead trying to think of new mischievous plans while waiting on getting into trouble. On this particular day, we had turned our bedroom walls into our colored master pieces. Even though our mom tried to punish us separately – I near the corner of the kitchen, Riley in the dining room - we were still giggling and sticking out our tongues at each other. She was just about to scold us when the doorbell rang. My mother gave us both a look as she went to answer the door, stopping us in our tracks of silliness. Standing on the other side of the door was a tall, lanky man wearing a suit. I remember seeing him sniffle and hold back his tears. What we noticed was that he was holding our cat, Mittens under one arm like a sack of lifeless flour. Riley called to Mittens quietly, hoping that he would spring up and trot around the house purring but the cat didn 't move. The man began to talk with my mother in a hushed tone. She cupped a hand over her mouth and wiped away the stray tear that ran down the side of her face. "Do you mind if I clean up?" his voice shook as our mother nodded. Our mother rushed us upstairs

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