Young Writers Society

                     Dear Connor,

                        I remember the day I found you. The rain was beating down hard, I had just come back from fighting in the rings. Bonsey the Coyote had called me over to his junkyard and we chatted for a while. It was around midnight when I decided to head home. Passing a nearby dumpster, I heard a cry echo from within. I tried to ignore it, walk past it, but the cry sounded again, this time louder.

                     My paw-steps made a loud "slap" against the puddles as I ran back to the dumpster. Mewling, crying and thrashing inside tattered blue blankets, abandoned in the trash, was you. You were only a baby at the time. Half your face was battered and scratched. Your limbs were non-existent, bloody little nubs instead of what should have been.

                     It didn't occur to me, at the time, how odd it was that you were an abandoned human child in an all walking, talking animal realm. The only thought running through my mind, was that I had to save you, no matter what. Scooping you up in your blankets, I ran, faster than I ever have before.

              The dusty red-and-white striped circus tent appeared over the horizon. I let out a loud howl, hoping that at least someone was awake and could hear me. Luckily, my prayers were answered. Friday ran over on all fours, her tail flying and nightgown slipping dangerously low.

                    "What is it?" Friday barked, panicked. Wordlessly, I slid her the bloody bundle of blankets, your little face peeking out. She gasped and ran off, calling behind her back, "I'll go get Ally!" I wrapped my tail around you, growling softly. A few minutes later (though it seemed like hours), Friday came back, Ally at her side, putting on her ringmasters coat as she ran.

                   "Quick, we don't have time! Boxer can help." We ran in sync, you hung precariously from my jaws, wrapped tightly in your blankets so you wouldn't bounce. Boxer was not only our family and cast-member, but also our on-site medic. He could heal anyone.The old horse was in the back and messing with his equipment, despite the late hour.

                 "Boxer!" Friday yelled, her voice booming. I ran ahead and with a sweep of my tail, cleared the table of its contents and set you down gently for Boxer to inspect.  He got to work quickly and quietly. His hooves gently poked and prodded your swollen face. The commotion had woken the entire circus and I found everyone surrounding the operating table. It was nice to know I had my family as a back-up

               "Get the dead fox from the alleyway. Now!" Boxer ordered demandingly. Jack and Joker raced outside. Earlier today as we were setting up for the show, someone found  a poor fox who took refuge behind some garbage cans and died peacefully of who knows what. They brought in the dead fox and laid him down next to you. The crazy horse pulled out his scalpel and ordered us out of the room. 

                        We waited...and waited....and waited. It was agonizing. Time had never stretched so long.  Finally, he called us back in. He had removed the broken part of your face and stitched on half of the fox's face. Your new limbs were stitched-on fox paws and Boxer even sewed on the fox's tail to keep your body balanced. You were healed now and Boxer assured that you would be fine, you would grow fine and your new half-body would grow with you.

                      "But we can't leave this mutilated little thing out alone. Someone has to take care of it." he said, his southern-drawl apparent at this time of night. Everyone bickered and fought. Some said that because you were an unexplained human, we should send you back through the yearly portal trip. Others said you were too hurt and small. Plus, looking the way you did would only raise questions in the human world. We couldn't risk that. Everyone stayed dead-silent as I spoke.

                       " I found him. I'll take care of him." and from that moment on, you were mine. I've raised you ever since. I can only hope I've done a good job. As I write this to you, this twenty-year long story of an animal mother and her half-human son, their adventures together, their ups-and-downs... I hope you realize that I am proud to call you my son. I want you to look back at these memories with fondness, with love, with joy, but most of all...with remembrance. Never forget the times you shared with me, your mother. Because I know I never will. 

                                                                                                            I love you.

                                                                                                             Izzy.