My name is Luke Huntton, and to say the least my family has quite a history. Especially this current generation. To better understand, you’ll have to get to know everyone in my family. Alive, and dead. First of all, there’s Grandma Liza. Grandma Liza is my dad’s mum, and is crazy strict. When Grandpa Philip left, Grandma Liza started to drink. She “drowned her sorrows in liquor” as my dad would say. Dad and his older brother, Rupert had to be taken into a foster home, when he was around seven years old. We can’t blame her that much, my parents say. It’s not all her fault. She’s gotten better, and has been sober for one year now, but we only ever visit her when it's really necessary. Grandpa Philip, who is my dad’s dad, met with Grandma Liza, had two sons, stayed with them for three years, and then left. Just like that. According to my dad, Grandpa Philip would visit occasionally, but always stayed distant. When my dad was 11, Grandma Liza married Grandpa Mort, who is my dad's step-dad. They had two daughters, my dad’s step-sisters, and a son, my dad’s step-brother, Eric. Eric’s dead now. Died from saving my mum from being hit by a car, believe it or not. That’s actually how my parents met, but that’s a story for another time. Grandma Liza and Grandpa Mort are still together, and Grandpa Mort really is a great guy. My dad likes him more than his real dad, but that’s not really anything huge. Like I say, my family has a lot of history. My mum’s side isn’t that crazy, seeing as she didn’t have a dad. Basically, her mum, Who we call Grandma ZeZe, wanted a child, but didn’t want a husband or a wife. So she borrowed some sperm, and there you have it! Grandma ZeZe is definitely my favorite grandma. We call her Grandma ZeZe because when I was young I couldn’t pronounce “Zenia” so I called her ZeZe and it stuck. Then you have all my aunts, uncles, and cousins. First, there’s Uncle Rupert, who is my dad’s older brother. He’s happily single and has three cats named Gopher, Squirrel, and Rodent. He’s kind of a crazy cat guy.Then there’s Uncle Teddy and Aunt Trix (who is my Dad’s younger step-sister). They have a little four year old girl named Gemma and a little two year old boy named Rocky. And last but not least, there’s Uncle Bob. His wife died giving birth to his second child, one year old Poppy. I’ll never understand why they tried their luck having her. His wife, (Aunt Jasmine, my dad’s other step-sister), had already struggled with giving birth to her other child, eight year old Jasper. So, you must think that the drama dies down when it gets me. (No it doesn't, it gets worse.) My parents got together when they were both twenty, and after two years of marriage, they had my older brother, Gray. When he was three years old they had my older sister, Nala. When Gray was five and Nala was three however, Gray got a rare form of cancer, and he died. My parents were heartbroken, especially my Dad, and they even gave Nala up to a foster home, because they felt like they couldn’t take care of her anymore. When Nala was oh, about seven, they had me. My parents had never really meant for me to be born. It was a mistake, but when my mum felt me moving around in her belly, she fell in love with me—or so she says, and just couldn’t bear to get me aborted. They took Nala back from her foster home, and when I was nine years old I was given a little brother and a little sister, twins who were named Benjamin and Renee, but we call them Ben and Ren. Ridiculous, right? I’ve always found it funny when twins have twin names. Anyway, fast forward to now. My dad’s been on a long business trip for at least ten months by now, and my sister, Nala, is moving out to go to her fiance, Matthew Green in about 3 days. Nala is in her room doing who knows what, Ben and Ren are in their room, playing with their stuffies, Mum’s downstairs working, and I’m lying on my floor in my room, listening to music and writing down a poem about 100 reasons why we should keep Mage’s puppies. I love writing poems. Sometimes I get bullied because of it, but poems let me escape from the world and into my world. My favorite poet of all time is Emily Dickinson. Her poems are inspiring. Have you ever heard the quote “Hope is the thing with feathers” ? That’s a quote by Emily Dickinson. Nala used to read her poems to me every night when I was younger. It was our special thing. But I’ve gotten off track. Mage is a beautiful all black sleek furred dog, with green eyes. She’s our neighbor’s dog, and our dog, Simba, recently fathered her puppies. We named him Simba ’cos when we got him he looked like a little lion. And Mum thought it was cute ’cos it also went along with Nala’s name too. Nala hates it though. However, Simba’s quite old now and he no longer looks like a lion. Or, if he does, then a gray one. Anyways, that’s why he’s not neutered. Well, that’s why he wasn’t neutered. He is now, and Mage will be once her puppies are older, too. Mage’s owner is an old man named Mr. Haven, and he can’t take care of all the puppies. There’s only three of them, but it's still a lot of work. Today is going to be mine and Simba ’s first time meeting them, and my best chance of convincing my mum to adopt at least one of them.