Dog Talk

The conversation around our house frequently goes to the dogs.  Literally.  We talk about dogs at least every day.  Mauri still has her heart set on a canine companion, and the other girls contribute to the pressure to succumb to dog ownership.

My favorite excuses:

You need to take better care of Buddy and Tweety.

Dogs cost mucho dinero, and I have two kids in college.

We need a fence.  (More dinero.)

The last time we had a dog, everyone said they would take care of him, and I ended up having to do it.

I've decided the attachment to a pet for young children is stronger than I initially thought.  

I remember my dogs growing up.

I was so attached to this dog, I named a daughter after him.  Not really, but his name was Brit.  I think I remember that my parents ended up giving him to the postman, telling us that he would grow to be a big dog, and needed a place to run.  Good-bye, cute puppy.

A few years later we got another dog we named Ceasar.

Ceasar had an affinity for chasing cars.  He was fascinated by those spinning tires.  He would escape from the house and go yipping and barking down the street every time a car went by.  Eventually he learned not to bark as he ran along side those spinning tires, and one day, right after a trip to the groomer's, one of those tires ran right over his tiny head.  Good-bye, cute puppy.

And, here at the Syddall house, we can never forget Ace.

Mauri still prays for him every once in a while.  That he'll be safe.  That he'll be happy.  She's even asked if we could just get Ace back.  No.  Good-bye, cute puppy.

So I'm not surprised that she brings home books like this:

The talks will continue.  She's breaking us down.  She's tried to make us commit to a time frame.  I have been non-committal and vague.  But tempted.