Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

Kit and I both freeze. We look out the back of the fast moving trolley, hoping to see Buddy appear. But when he doesn’t, I ask what we’re going to do. Kit looks as upset as I feel, but she takes a brave breath, and says that we’ll get off for the next stop. We will find Buddy.

I really admire how Kit doesn’t panic. Maybe when terrible things happen to you, like your dad losing his job, you learn how to keep your cool. The trolley stops after only a few blocks, and Kit and I hop off. We run as fast as we can back to the spot where Buddy jumped out of my arms. But there is no trace of him. He’s disappeared.

I moan and groan that we will never find him, but Kit firmly says that we will. We’ll walk all over Cincinnati if we need to. So Kit and I trudge up and down hill after hill after hill, calling Buddy’s name, and asking everyone we meet if they’ve seen a golden retriever puppy. We look in parks, front yards, parking lots, alleys, and backyards. Finally, our feet give out. We collapse on a park bench in a plaza that surrounds a fountain.

Kit swipes her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand and says we’re still not giving up. But we should go to Uncle Hendrick’s and get that over with. Then we can search more for Buddy.

I tell her that sounds okay. I’m hot and tired and discouraged, and I want to cry. How could I have lost Buddy? Now I understand what Mom means when she says having a pet is a big deal. Losing Buddy is the biggest deal and the worst thing I’ve ever faced.

With heavy hearts, Kit and I trudge to Uncle Hendrick’s house. When we get there, my courage fails me. Uncle Hendrick is sure to know that I am not his grand-niece. As we turn up his front walk, my steps are dragging. Even his door knocker scares me. It’s not very welcoming, since it’s the shape of a dragon’s head with its mouth open and a tongue of fire sticking out.

I tell Kit that I want to leave, but she says it won’t be so bad. She lifts the unfriendly dragon’s nose and knocks on the door. She keeps knocking, but there’s no answer.

I tell Kit it doesn’t matter. We can come back later for the suitcase. Kit shakes her head and says that’s wasting the trolley fare. Besides, we still have to find Buddy. And Mother needs her to do the chores at home. But Kit knows where they hide an extra key. I tell Kit this is a good plan. This way, nobody has to talk to Uncle Hendrick.

Kit stands on tiptoe, pulls out a key from behind one of the porch lamps, and open the door. We step inside. Inside, I can see a room full of books. Bookshelves are crowded with books of all shapes and sizes and they line every wall from floor to ceiling. It looks like a library. Kit says she thinks Uncle Hendrick has every book in the world. But we don’t have time to do.

Kit walks over to a suitcase in the front hall. I’m surprised to see it, but I guess it makes sense that the suitcase does exist. After all, there is an actual Cousin Lucille somewhere. The letter Uncle Hendrick wrote to Kit is real, so it’s logical that the suitcase is real, too. But what happens when the true Lucille shows up?

Kit says that we can take turns carrying the suitcase. I shrug and nod, feeling odd about taking someone else’s things, but I’m not sure how to explain that to it. I also notice the suitcase doesn’t have wheels. Will they let us take it on the trolley?

And just then, an angry voice shouts from behind us that we are thieves.