Zenalia @ Saint Patricks School – I am a Year 7 learner at St Patrick's School (Panmure) in Auckland, New Zealand and my teacher is Mrs George.

It was 7 minutes after midnight, when I saw Mrs. Shear’s dog laying coldly on her lawn about 2 houses away from mine. A pitchfork stabbed right through him. Considering it was still standing it might’ve gone through him into the ground. Of course, I checked it out myself and entered through her gate. There I saw the dog, lying on the wet and cold grass positioned like it was running. I went up to him and stroked his back, it was still warm. Who could’ve done something so cruel, I’ve always liked dogs. I wonder this while taking the pitch fork out of him, blood gushing out of the stabbed area. As I lifted him Mrs. Shears came running to me, her night gown still on and with freshly painted purple nails. Before I could think any further she was already in front of me throwing words at me I couldn’t comprehend. “What have you done?” Her expression was something I couldn’t read. “I didn’t do anything.” Despite me saying I haven’t done anything she still kept questioning me, each being louder than the other. “Put the dog down.” So I did. It seemed like she was going to pick him up but she stopped, probably because she didn’t want to dirty herself from all the blood. Instead she started to scream at me again. I don’t like when people scream at me, it’s like they’re going to hit me. So I did the only thing that made me feel safe was to put my hands over my head and curl up into a ball, bending down until my forehead touches the cold and wet grass. I did this to help block out all the sounds that were bothering me. Then I heard heavy footsteps and voices, I looked up and I saw 2 police officers. I like the police. They have those badges with numbers and you know what their meant to be doing. When I lifted my head up the first thing I noticed was his nose, it looked like 2 tiny mice were inside it. Beside him was a policewoman, her tights had a hole at the right side of her ankle. In the middle had a tiny scratch. “Care to explain what happened here?” The policeman asked, “The dog is dead,” I said standing up.” “What were you doing in Mrs Shears garden,” he asked? “I was trying to see if the dog was dead,” I replied. Why,” asked the policeman? That question caught me off guard since it was hard to think of the answer. It was even harder since the policeman didn’t give me enough time to answer. He spoke and said, “I’m asking you again, why?” “Because I like dogs.” I said. “Did you kill the dog?” he asked. “No, I did not kill the dog,” I responded. He asked me again, “I am going to ask you this again, did you kill the dog?” But this time, I didn’t answer, instead I knelt down and pressed my forehead on the ground and started to make this sound that my Dad calls groaning. I did this to let the people know that I was irritated and wanted them to stop talking.

When I did this the policeman changed his expression, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. Suddenly he grabbed my arm forcibly making me stand up. I didn’t like him touching me this way so I hit him. It took the policeman time to process what just happened. Finally saying, “you’re under arrest for assaulting a cop,” his voice was more stern this time. “Go to the back of the car,” he said. I walked over to the police car that was parked in front of the gate and hopped inside. I saw the policeman muttering a few random words to the policewoman before he came back to the car and drove to the station. By the time we got to the station they were already questioning me. They asked me for my Dads phone number to tell him to pick me up. A few minutes later another policeman handed me a paper and he said “This is just a caution, it’s to keep a record of what you did, do you understand?” I said I understood. Then he took me back to the front. I saw my dads car parked outside the door.

My citizenship