They always look innoncent when they're sleeping

He's curled up on my love seat, snoring every once in a while. After following me around all night he's finally worn himself out.

It's been a long day with Schmoe. It's been a long week. He didn't ask for breakfast this morning. I don't think he was feeling very well.

I had to leave him behind this morning when I went out for some groceries. I had to yell at him to step away from the door and get back into the kitchen. With dogs you have to sound like you're barking at them so they get the message. He put his tail between his legs and cowered. I felt awful. As I walked to my garage I could still hear him scratching frantically at the door, crying, "what did I do to make you leave me?"

Even though I continue to abandon him and scorn him for following me around like the proverbial lost pup, he's always so happy when I come home again. He greets me at the door and makes a happy noise. When I take him out for a walk he scampers along, his tail waving like a little white sail. He is a 30-pound bundle of unconditional love.

This summer I thought seriously about getting myself a dog. I love dogs and I thought it would be good company. My friend, not really a dog person, thought it would be a cramp in my lifestyle.

"You'd never be able to go away," she said.

"I don't go away now."

"You'd always have to come home right after work."

"I always come home right after work."

This is all true. But it's not enough.

I realize now that I don't think I want a dog by myself. I can't do it alone. I can't be that unselfish all the time; I need to share that duty with someone. Having a dog is what I imagine to be what having a two-year-old is like. He loves you to pieces, and you love him, but he needs you, and he gets very upset and scared if you leave him. And when he's sleeping, he looks cute enough to make you forget how crazy he can drive you.