Jackson has been asking me (and by “asking me”, I mean bugging me daily until I want to jump off a cliff) to get him a dog for years. I can hardly afford to care for my kids, let alone any canines. Besides, I don’t want any more responsibility because, let’s face it, after the novelty wears off, we all know who will be taking care of this hypothetical dog. I’m already responsible for more than I can handle; the thought of taking care of one more thing nearly pushes me over the edge to the land of nervous breakdowns and happy pills.
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