Once they slayed a dragon, found the Fountain of Youth, made potions, created kick-me signs and braved much more, but still they never got a dog.
Their mother (a saint of a woman) would always look at them kindly and say, "NO DOG! EVER AGAIN!"
Her words might seem harsh to you, dear reader. But, the problem was that their last dog, a golden lab, died after six short years of life. The mother had grown so attached, so close that she couldn't stand the idea of losing another dog.
Well, yesterday, The Scribe and The Hippie went on a very brave journey. The mother worried too much, so she decided to go with them. Could they conquer Tadpole Pond? Would they see any fish?
The mother even grabbed a washed pickle jar of her own, rolled up the hem of her holey pants, and scoured the waters. The three of them laughed and giggled. They threw water at each other as they sang to the dragonflies. It was a magical moment, something they would never forget.
After each of them caught two tadpoles and three fish (on accident), The Scribe sloshed toward her mother and hugged her around the waist. It was a gooey hug, the kind dreams are made from.
"We don't have to get a dog," The Scribe said. "I know it was selfish to ask you so many times. I'm sorry. I've realized that you're busy and a dog would just make things harder.
"I guess the thing is that . . . I used to want a dog to take care of now, since I'm only a kid once. But I understand why I can't have one."
The Scribe spoke wisely and was so sincere, the mother squeezed her back.
The Hippie saw them hugging in the mud. She ran over, held a jar high and said, "Look. We did so good! Look at how happy they are. We're the best pet owners in the universe."
That's when the mother knew they'd passed the final test. The Scribe and The Hippie had proven themselves as loyal, selfless, optimistic children. I guess that's why the mother finally let them get a dog.
Luna, a six-week-old, Siberian Husky
(Oh, and her pet, Cade)