Dad wants a dog.

I go through this about once a month. Dad starts longing for his beloved Zeus, who we had to put down early last year. Our local newspaper always seems to run some story about a lost, or rescued, or abandoned, or abused dog or horse, and Dad wants to adopt them all, love them all, rescue them all. So this morning wasn't a complete surprise when Dad came into the office and said, "Let's adopt a greyhound." He had read a story about a bunch of greyhounds, ex-racing dogs, that needed homes. Dad's heartstrings were plucked.

Don't get me wrong, I love animals. My two dogs are my lifeline to sanity most days. But taking on an additional dog, along with the other responsibilities I have is not an option for me.

So, I explained to Dad the primary reason why we should not adopt a greyhound: The dog will likely outlive Dad and Mom, which means I end up being responsible for three dogs, which I don't want to do. Not if I want to be able to see my kids when I want to.

Dad understood. In fact, I was amazed at how completely he understood. But his exit is what prompted this blog.

He nodded in agreement and said, "Good point. I understand."

Then he turned his walker around and started walking out of the office. And I heard him exclaim as he toddled out of sight...."I just want a dog that I can bond with."

And that's what tugged at MY heartstrings.