I have another title in mind, but I'm not yet prepared to reveal that one yet.
The following letter (which may be broken up into two letters) may explain the Qanimal reference (and possible title):
It’s been 1,475 days since you went away.
Dad’s been gone three years now.
We’re keeping that busybody from Social Services away. I think Mrs. Nello knows you’re gone but she can’t prove it. I’m pretty good at pretending to be you over the phone, lol.
Last year, I set up a bill pay account so I don’t have to forge your name on checks anymore. And the teachers at Qahog are none the wiser when I write excuse notes and permission slips for us.
We have to pay everything on time, like house payments, utilities, and taxes to keep nosey adults away. When all is paid up for the month, then we buy groceries and other stuff.
Dad’s money is running out, but Qeah’s little biz (something to do with the internet) is holding us together and my computer art sales on ebay are improving (I do a little drop shipping, too, look it up if you don’t know what it means).
We make do. It’s getting easier everyday.
Wish you and Dad were here, tho.
If you and Dad would just come home, we promise to keep our jobs.
Qeah called me a name today: Qanimal.
I wanted to smack her but the more she called me that, the more I liked it. So I think I’ll tell my peeps on the forum to forget about Quinelle and use Qanimal.
Maybe it’s because G.I. Dog had something to say about it. (He’s getting big, btw, shaggy as all get out, too bad you’ve never met him).
So I was mad at Qeah because she’s SUCH a hog (Qahog, get it?), throws her clothes all around and leaves dirty dishes in the sink without even rinsing. She whines when we have to do housework and doesn’t understand we have to keep everything neat and clean in case Mrs. Nello comes nosing around.
A messy house isn’t an option.
So, anyways, when I went into Qeah’s messy room, I yelled, “You’re pathetic, you live like an animal!”
G.I. Dog shot up from a deep sleep and growled and bared his teeth at me, he’s never threatened anyone before, so we were surprised.
“Sorry, Gidog,” I said.
He shook himself out, plopped back down beside Qeah’s bed, went “harumph,” and farted.
And then went back to sleep.
Me and Qeah just busted up laughing.
Gidog lives like an animal but he isn’t so very sloppy. Maybe shaggy and a little farty, but he never poops or pees inside.
“Okay, then. You live like a HOG,” I said.
“I’m a Qahog.” Qeah giggled. “But you’re a Qanimal.”
I was about to slug her but G.I. Dog wouldn’t have liked it.
“Qanimal, Qanimal, Qanimal...”
“Qanimal,” I said. “I like it.”
At first, I said it just to shut her up but then I really started liking it.
“You can call me Qanimal anytime.”
“Really. I love you, anyway,” I said. And then I gave her a BIG hug.
Sometimes I forget she’s only 10.
We sat down and had a very important talk about our situation, about how we have to be careful not to be found out.
We have to work twice as hard as adults.
Personally, I don’t care a whit about a clean house and you used to get on my case about my messy room (Sorry, Momma) but things are different now.
For now, Qeah understands.
Please some home soon.