Perhaps a Dog

My son wants a dog in the worst possible way. I remember feeling that way.

We are investigating many possibilities, and taking our time with the choices. Right now he is imagining a West Highland Terrier...not picky about the color. My husband is imagining bites out of our new furniture, recently saved from Eliot. I am imagining who is going to be taking the dog for a walk and reserving kennels. I am wondering if Emma is imagining dressing the dog in doll clothes. (I bet she is...my sister and I used to do that to our cat, Snooky.) Elena is imagining the dog bringing all kind of terror to the other animals of the household.

However, Tony has already picked out a name for the dog if it is a girl. He wants to call her..."Mrs. Doyle" after a minor character on the BBC sitcom "Father Ted." Can you hear us? "Mrs. Doyle needs a walk. We have to take Mrs. Doyle to the vet. Does Mrs. Doyle want a puppy treat?"

Stop it. I can hear you laughing from here. At least we won't be calling the dog "Father Ted." "Father Ted, roll over. Father Ted, don't chew on my shoe. Father Ted needs more dog food."

Woof.