When we visited Delaware last weekend, Dom was surrounded by animals.  He played with two dogs and two cats, held two turtles, and watched an aquarium full of fish for hours. 

We have two cats at home…I kill fish within days of bringing them home, and birds seem to die even more quickly in my care (I never even thought of turtles, and odds are I would feed them the wrong thing and they would die from starvation, anyway).  Our lease prohibits dogs (and cats, officially, but the staff knows we have them, anyway).

Dom loves to spend his time chasing our cats and torturing them with pats and hugs.  He will tell complete strangers all about Shayla and Smokee.  He feeds them from his plate every chance he gets.  It was his job to feed him their food until the day I found him with his face in the bowl, butt in the air, chowing down on cat mush.

For the past year or so, Dom has been saying that he wants a dog.  Every time he brings it up, we tell him that we have cats, and that we can’t have a dog until we have a house with a yard.  For several days after each explanation, Dom will randomly point to houses as we drive past, saying, ”There’s a house.  Get doggy!”

If only it were that easy.  Although the housing market has dropped enough to make homes in this area affordable to us, the banks that would/could lend us money are claiming poverty while hosting elaborate Caribbean house parties. 

But, anyway…for now Dom can be bribed by allowing him to pet strangers’ dogs.  The day will come, though, when we need to get one of our own.  So, should you happen to awake one morning to a small family, two cats and a dog living in a tent in your front yard, the boy made us do it.