Squeakers

For years N has been bugging me about getting a puppy. After getting up at night with an infant, a puppy is low on the priority list.

Now that Zoe is sleeping through the night, he uses her as a reason. "A child should grow up with a pet." Blah blah blah. I had a goldfish when I was little. His name was Grease Lightening. On my 4th birthday, I invited all my friends to come look at my fish. Only to be escorted into the kitchen by my mother who informed me that Grease Lightening had gone to the big tank in the sky. After reassuring me that she did bury him in the backyard and had a small ceremony, was I able to go on with the party.

For years I never played in the dirt in our backyard for fear of coming across Grease Lightening's corpse. We all know that wouldn't have been a possibility unless by some freak of nature I dug into the sewer system. As a 4 year old, I took my mom's words at face value.

I never want to have to lie to Zoe (this is my excuse). I never want to tell her that Juneau (N's pick on the name) is buried in the backyard and is now playing with the other little puppies in heaven. That's just freaky.

My solution? Squeakers.

She pulls him all over the house, he doesn't make any messes and he seems to keep Zoe satisfied on the puppy front.

My work here is done.