I stood at the bathroom mirror, trying quickly to regain my composure because I only had seven and a half minutes before the middle school bus came barreling up the street. I couldn’t get the tears to stop; I couldn’t get the redness in my eyes to return to normal, and I couldn’t get the conversation Mom and I had out of my head. If I didn’t get my act together real soon, I would face actual torture if I climbed the bus steps crying.
 

            It had all started this morning at breakfast.
 

            “Oh, come on, Mom,” I begged as I attempted to swallow my morning oatmeal. “It will be my dog. You won’t have to do anything," I cried. “I promise, I’ll feed him. I’ll take him for long walks every morning and night. I’ll house train him. I’ll clean up all of his messes. I’ll even use my money to buy food for him down at the Dollar General. Why can’t I get a dog?” I asked once again as I wiped my tears off on the sleeve of my Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt.

           
           “Brad, I’ve heard enough of your whining!” Mom exclaimed. “Every single day for the past six months, all you ever talk about is getting a dog. You write about dogs in your school papers; you have magazines open to dog food advertisements; you leave mail on the table with the SPCA envelope right on top, and you leave pictures of dogs all over my bedroom and even under my pillow! I’m tired of this conversation every single day. We cannot get a dog. Your dad and I work all day while you are at school. How are we going to care for him while we are gone?” she asked.

         
           “Well, all other dog owners manage somehow. We can too, “I responded.

​

            “Enough, “Mom stated as she let out a long, slow sigh. Then very calmly she added, “No more dog conversations and no more hints lying around the house. The answer is no. Now, wash your face, wipe away those tears, and grab your books for school. It’s almost time for the bus to arrive.”

​

            “Fine,” I said. “But I’m going to have a dog,” I mumbled as I stormed down the hall to the bathroom.

​

            “What did you say, young man?” I could tell that Mom was eyeballing me from the kitchen.

           
            “Nothing,” I mumbled and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.