On The Moon There Are No Dogs

On the Moon, there are no dogs.
So how did a fresh dog turd get into my closet?
I knew what it was. Most Moon kids wouldn’t, but I’d just returned from a trip to Earth to visit my dad. He moved there after the divorce, and he has a dog, an Irish setter named Molly.
This was not a good way to start my first day back to school. I wanted to see my friends again, and I was eager to start lessons, but I still felt a bit shaky. Like I’d been split between two worlds, the one here on the Moon with Mom, and the one with Dad back on Earth. I did not need to deal with mysterious feces.
I called Mom.
She blamed me for the mess. “Isadora, what have you done?” she shrieked, holding her nose.
“I didn’t!”
“You crapped in your closet!” She didn’t say crap; she said something I’m not allowed to repeat. “Why would a twelve-year-old girl crap in her closet?” Mom stood in my bedroom, all one hundred fifty-nine centimeters and sixty-two kilos of her, with her hands clasped over her mouth. She stared at me like she’d never seen me before. “What is the matter with you, Isadora?”
She didn’t wait for my answer. “It’s your father’s fault. What are they teaching children on Earth?”
Did she think all Earth kids crapped in their closets? I quit listening and went to the kitchen to get a baggie.