“I would like to make an exchange,” said Buddy pulling a kitten from his jacket.
Mr. Jennison turned from his position between the rabbits and the hamsters to face Buddy. “An exchange?”
“Yes, sir,” said Buddy. “I don’t like cats. Mind you, if I did, this would be a very nice kitty.”
“Sorry, young man, but we don’t exchange pets.”
“But you must. My grandpa bought it here. He told me.”
Mr Jennison knelt down to look Buddy in the eye. “I’m sure he did . . . but you see we don’t exchange pets . . . we never have.”
A tear trickled down Buddy’s cheek. “I wanted a puppy . . .like . . . like that one over there.” He pointed to a tiny black ball of fur.
“I’m sure if you give this kitty a chance,” said Mr. Jennison, “you’ll really learn to love it.”
“Oh, I already love it. I just don’t like it—it’s a cat. “Buddy’s voice rose. “Every boy needs a dog . . . to follow him, an to sleep under his bed . . .to play with. My daddy had one when he was a boy.”
Mr. Jennison just knelt there with his mouth open. He didn’t know what to say.
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