Iowa Writes

CLAIRE KEAN
Tap Tap, Knock Knock


"Click, tap, tap." I glance out the French doors lining the plain white living room walls. My dog Blaise, a gigantic, fluffy, loving collie, is smiling in at me. "Click, click, tap." Once again he gently taps on the glass doors, just like a little gentleman. Part of me wants to go out and face the blistering cold, to take my dogs out for a beautiful walk to the river. Yet, another part of me wants to be lazy and sit at home and sip tea all day.

"Click, click, tap tap." With Blaise's big, warm, brown eyes staring through me, I melt and go to the laundry room to get my shoes. The dogs go crazy. Every 30 seconds there's a loud, anxious whine at the door. "I'm coming," I assure them. Another loud wail. I open the door and they prance around the garage. Blaise sounds as if he's singing, he howls so long and loud. "Let's go for a walk!"

"Click, tap, tap." I glance out the French doors lining the plain white living room walls. My dog Blaise, a gigantic, fluffy, loving collie, is smiling in at me. "Click, click, tap." Once again he gently taps on the glass doors, just like a little gentleman. Part of me wants to go out and face the blistering cold, to take my dogs out for a beautiful walk to the river. Yet, another part of me wants to be lazy and sit at home and sip tea all day.

"Click, click, tap tap." With Blaise's big, warm, brown eyes staring through me, I melt and go to the laundry room to get my shoes. The dogs go crazy. Every 30 seconds there's a loud, anxious whine at the door. "I'm coming," I assure them. Another loud wail. I open the door and they prance around the garage. Blaise sounds as if he's singing, he howls so long and loud. "Let's go for a walk!"

We walk out the side door, and while walking across the yard to the woods, FLASH! I see a blur of deep brown and beige. Here comes Ted, the neighbor dog, rocketing by to join us. We head down the deep, white, untouched, snow-topped trail into the large, frozen meadow. The dogs occasionally run off to dig up an innocent mouse to eat. Luckily the mouse usually escapes through the grass. The dogs still stand there sniffing as if thinking, "Huh? Where'd he go?" They always trot back to me to make sure I'm still there, wag their tails, and then trot off again.

A stand of trees looms before us. We enter the woods. The tall dark trees stand like people watching us, but they never speak, or follow us. I hear a cracking noise. Bailey, the middle-sized dog of the three, is sliding on the ice ahead of us, cracking the ice in some spots. Now I hear a splash. Over one hundred pounds of dog plunges in through the ice. Blaise just lumbers up and seems to say "I did that on purpose," and saunters off. He gives Ted a dirty look, as if he's jealous that Ted never falls in.

After an hour of this, three wet, dirty dogs walk back to the house. The wind is whipping my hair. I am no longer cold. It was great to get out, and now I have earned my hot tea, in my bright red velvet armchair by the fire.

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About Iowa Writes

Since 2006, Iowa Writes has featured the work of Iowa-identified writers (whether they have Iowa roots or live here now) and work published by Iowa journals and publishers on The Daily Palette. Iowa Writes features poetry, fiction, or nonfiction twice a week on the Palette.

In November of 2008, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated Iowa City, Iowa, the world's third City of Literature, making the community part of the UNESCO Creative Cities Network.

Iowa City has joined Edinburgh, Scotland and Melbourne, Australia as UNESCO Cities of Literature.

Find out more about submitting by contacting iowa-writes@uiowa.edu


CLAIRE KEAN

Claire Kean lives in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She is twelve years old and a sixth grader at Harding Middle School. "I like reading just about any type of story, but I like to write non-fiction the best," she says.

This page was first displayed
on April 07, 2006

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