Pepsi & Molly

Lydia has wanted a pet since she was three. We started out with fish because they were relatively low maintenance but that went horribly wrong. Both fish expired in a tragic tank pollution accident. After that, Lydia wanted a cat but Dave and I are not cat people. Sorry to offend those of you who are, but cats just seem pretty pointless to us.

After Rebekah died, we started to contemplate getting her a dog. Part of that was out of guilt and pity that she wouldn't have a sibling to play with. Emotionally, I wasn't ready to commit to a pet so a year went by before we took it into serious consideration again. By that time Lydia was a little older and wiser and started the manipulation that I'm sure she will master by the time she's 16. She started out with the "I don't have a little sister so I sure would like a dog" tactic. Then she moved on to the "everybody has a dog but me" method. We stayed strong throughout and felt pretty confident we could hold out for at least another year. That's when she pulled out the big gun and we never saw it coming. She introduced us to Pepsi.




Pepsi is Dave's exercise ball that had taken up residence in our garage. She found it and started rolling it around with her everywhere she went. When I asked her what she was doing, she said "This is Pepsi, my pet." I thought it was just one of her elaborate imaginary games and went along with it. She petted Pepsi, talked to Pepsi, and let Pepsi sleep next to her bed. Pepsi even sat with us to watch American Idol. This went on for a week. We couldn't decide if she was delusional or a master manipulator. Either way it worked.

We brought Molly home this weekend. She's a 2 year old Chihuahua/Daschaund mix, which is called a Chiweenie. Dave can't believe we actually own a Chiweenie. His exact quote was "Why don't we just take my testicles and put them in a jar. My manhood is destroyed." I'd rather do that than have my daughter walking her pet purple ball in the park.