My kids really really really really really want a dog.

 

My husband really really really really really doesn't.

 

Me, I'm in the middle. We always had a dog when I was growing up, and I miss that. I can see where it might be good for my kids to have that sort of companionship and that sort of responsibility. But on the other hand: Mess. Disruption. Dog hair. Dog poop. Do I need that sort of responsibility? There are days we just barely have it together with our current roster of personnel.

 

At any rate, we would have to find a pretty exceptional dog to be able to survive this household. One energetic enough to play with the small hyperactive boy, but controlled enough to not hurt him in the process. One calm enough for my daughter, who adores dogs in about the same proportion that she is scared to death of them. One who will provide good company for my mother-in-law, who has custody of the downstairs rooms of our house that lead to the backyard, but not move in any way that may interfere with her already unsteady steps. And of course, one who will charm my husband, who really really really doesn't much care for critters.

 

Maybe one day the perfect dog will just follow us home, and we won't have to think about it. And then maybe somebody will leave a baby on our doorstep, and we'll be able to adopt again without any hassle. It's nice to dream. That's what I tell my kids, anyway.