The Canine Solution?

By Risa Goldstein

My husband's perfect. He's handsome and funny, does the dishes every night, and treats his daughters and me with unconditional love, respect and devotion. There's just one teeny-tiny problem. While I'm day-dreaming about having child number three, his nights are filled with the fear that I'll actually push us into doing it.

Jeffrey thinks I'm crazy. Just as the time demands on our lives are opening up, I want to pull us back into the bleary-eyed world of sleepless nights and diapers.
"How can you even think of another child after all the dangerous complications you had with the first two?" he demands. "And the cost of another kid -- that's a deal-breaker right there."

I answer with a silent stare.

"What about all the free time you have to write and volunteer at Breanna and Shayna's schools?" Jeffrey tries another approach. "What about the fact that we can go out on regular dates for the first time in 6 ½ years? What about us?" he argues logically.

But there's nothing logical about the little voice inside my head. That constant whisper, reminding me I'm not quiet ready to leave that part of my life behind for good. Our "baby" turns 4 this month and will be going to pre-K five days a week come September. I've loved everything about caring for her and her older sister. I know I should be looking forward to having loads of free time to myself. I am so grateful for the two healthy, remarkable children we've been blessed with, but suddenly I don't feel quite finished yet.

Also, it doesn't help that EVERYWHERE I turn these days my friends either have three kids, are pregnant with their third, or just gave birth to their second and are planning for number three. I can't escape this desperate case of baby envy.

"Why don't we get a dog?" Jeffrey suggests hopefully after weeks of debate. "Puppies are like babies. They cry a lot, eat a lot, sleep a lot, demand tons of attention, and pee and poop a lot. Just like kids."

A dog? He must be kidding. Replace my need to nurture a child with a hairy beast? How heartless! Only a man could come up with such a callous plan. What happened to my "perfect" husband?

"Come on, Risa," Jeffrey continues. "A pet can teach our girls about empathy and to look at the world from a totally different perspective. Plus, what's better than a dog's unconditional love? Won't you even consider it?"

Days later, as the initial shock and disappointment of this crazy idea wear off, I decide to explore the thought of a new, furry family member. I mean, getting a dog could be like adding another child to our home...

Parenting has given us plenty of practical experience: we're used to sharing our bed and waking early for feedings. Drool is no big deal, and we know about scheduled pediatrician/veterinarian visits and vaccines. Having experienced toddlerhood with our daughters as our shadows following us from room to room, has also been good training for dog ownership.

Getting out the door will be easier with a dog than a new baby, I reason. Rather than packing up the diaper bag, checking that the baby's dressed warm enough, that I have enough diapers, bibs, wipes, bottles, etc, all I'll have to do is call, "Wanna go for a walk?" and our doggie will tear toward the door, mouth open, panting with excitement before I even bend over and put on my shoes. No dawdling, no negotiating, no threatening to count to three.

The more I think about it, the more Jeffrey's insane suggestion begins to make sense. Getting a dog is certainly easier on me. Forget about the nine gagging months of nauseous pregnancy and the complications I experienced at both of my children's births. Forget the months of sleepless, isolating existence with a newborn. We can bring home our dog, and I can take him for a walk by myself that very first night. Not a walk like a walk with four-year-old Shayna who insists on examining every leaf, rock and blade of grass we pass, but a brisk, satisfying one. Maybe I'll even get a little exercise by jogging with our dog; not like the twinkle-toes ballerina stroll with six-and-a-half-year-old Breanna. Talk about freedom. I can feel the stress of parenthood melting away already.

And how about this: I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a doggie tantrum. Recently we've been having particularly difficult parent-daughter situations. Jeffrey or I will ask Shayna one thing, and she, naturally, does everything in her power to avoid the request. I bet our dog will give us a sympathetic look as he curls up at our feet, tossing us a you-really-don't-deserve-to-be-treated-like-this look.

With all this in mind, it's off to the pound we go. We'll spend weeks researching breeds and rescue groups. We'll debate the benefits of large dogs (Jeffrey) vs. smaller dogs (the girls and I); male (Jeffrey again) vs. female (the girls and I). We'll even find the perfect dog and fall in love with him. But we won't take him home.

Because no matter how many times Jeffrey tries to convince me that it can work, I know in my heart that I can't replace my baby-envy with a dog. So that leaves Jeffrey and I at an impasse -- no baby, no dog; no winners, just a bunch of lonely hearts in limbo. Until, of course, I hold one of my friend's precious babies, and the yearning begins all over again. Be afraid, Jeffrey, be very afraid!

Risa Goldstein is a writer/editor who spent 14 years in the New York publishing industry before "retiring" to sunny Southern California with her husband and their two amazing daughters. She can be reached at She can be reached at risa@familymanonline.com.