Throw Me a Bone

Ryan and my dad pester me relentlessly about getting a dog for the kids. Do I want a dog? No. Absolutely not. And just to be sure we understand each other - NO.

I mean seriously, I have enough barf and crap to deal with. I'm open to the possibility of owning a dog. In twenty years when we are empty nesters and I may have the obsessive need to care for something. Something that slobbers, sheds, slobbers, has stinky breath, slobbers, has dingleberries, slobbers, needs walked in the freezing cold, slobbers, craps on my carpet, slobbers, chews my shoes, and slobbers. I mean come on ... what's not to love? (Apologies to all you dog lovers - I love your dog, but mostly I love that your dog is not my dog.)

Perhaps I should get to the point. The over-friendly neighbor girl came over today with her dog. The dog's name is Rose. She informed us that we shouldn't worry, Rose only attacks at her command. Hmmmmm.

Vicious beast, Rose.

Chloe loves dogs from a slight distance.

Seriously neighbor girl? Who is more likely to attack you?

Ugh, Rose is so cute! But, I will not be persuaded. We shall remain dogless and the poor children will resort to playing with neighborhood dogs.