As you may have gathered from past posts, my young daughter pretty much can get me to do most anything she wants. Last night she came downstairs right before bedtime (perhaps the cutest time of the day for little kids, with their little PJs on) and hopped up in my lap.
"Daddy, we need to have a discussion."
I was intrigued. "Okay, what do you want to discuss," I asked.
"I want a dog. For me. And I want it to sleep in my bed with me. And I want it to be all mine."
We just found out the other day that we're going to get to stay in Seattle for another couple of years. The last obstacle is out of the way for getting a dog. Now the only question is what kind.
I came home from work the other day espousing the benefits of a smallish dog breed, the American Eskimo. Guy at work brought his in one day. Looks like a nice breed. My wife had other ideas.
"I want a big dog," she said. Notice where my daughter gets her matter-of-fact tone of voice.
"Like a lab?"
"No bigger. I'm thinking a Great Dane or Irish Wolfhound."
She's taken the leap from big to gi-normous. Between two teenage boys and a 100+ pound dog, I'm cringing at the thought of the grocery bill.