The things they say....

Last week, Rosie had a birthday. She is now eight years old. We got a cake in her honor (good excuse to eat cake, huh?), and while we were all sitting around the table eating it, we started explaining to Maya how old Rosie was in "people years." (8*7=56) She started to do the math and figured out that Rosie, if she is lucky, has about five years left before God calls her "home." The thought of Rosie leaving us made her sad, and she asked us if we would get another dog when Rosie was no longer with us. Michael and I looked at each other, and I said, "We'll see....," but the lack of enthusiasm in my voice must have indicated to her that it wasn't likely.....

Fast forward to yesterday. I took Maya to the allergist; her pediatrician had referred her there to see if she has any allergies that trigger her asthma (she doesn't.) The doctor asked her if she had any cats or dogs at home. She replied matter-of-factly, "Yes, we have a dog, but when she dies we aren't going to get another one."