Most likely, we will never have a dog (unless I can wear Marcus down). Truth be told, on paper, I don't want a dog. They are expensive, take a lot of work...I'd rather devote to energy to another child...not a dog. But, deep deep down, I really really really want a dog. Not only would I love it, but I see how Callie is with her cousin's dogs. She adores them. And I see how those dogs are with Sammy. It melts my heart. Gus sits by Sammy on the couch, just cuddles up to her, and she likes it. I can tell. Gus patiently sits as she "pets" his back -- ok, it's more like plucking the hairs out of his back, but it's soft. She's trying. I love it. But, again, on paper...it looks like a headache. Right?
Well, I can't let Callie know my secret desire for a dog because she REALLY wants one. Since she' knows it's not in the forecast for, well, anytime soon, she's been wanting a fish. A harmless little fish. She used to pray for it even.
A couple weeks ago, her fish was granted. Prayers were answered. There was a street fair at church and she won a fish. Oh boy was this girl ecstatic!
She appropriately named him Fishy. Or her? I can't remember what we decided. But it was a real, living fish.
She did a good job taking care of him. She fed him and we changed the water...once.
Marcus and I decided that if Fishy lived past a week, we'd invest money and buy a bigger bowl.
At the week mark, Fishy didn't look his/her/its vibrant self. Nope. See Fishy in this picture? He was alive then. One week. She was sad, but not devastated. But she's ready for another one, this time ready to change the water more than once. (I actually think that was the problem, maybe? Who knows?)
Though we didn't expect him to live long, he lived longer than I expected. I was sad when he died. I mean, Fishy was a living thing. And it died. It's just sad. And I feel bad if I was somehow involved in his death. Seriously.
Last week Marcus asked Callie what she wants to ask Santa for Christmas?