"Hey, kids, let's get a dog!" The words seemed to be coming from my mouth. But why would I utter such lunacy? It's not as if I actually had the time or energy for one more living thing in my house. In fact, I quietly resented the tree sapling my daughter was given on Earth Day. It came with clear instructions to dig a hole, plant and water immediately. And I fully intend to – as soon as I finish writing the last of my Christmas letters.

I have two young kids and three freelance jobs. I'm the Brownie leader and the Sunday school teacher. I live in a hundred year old house (read: something is always falling apart), have two cats and a dizzying assortment of uninvited rodents and insects. A dog was the last thing we needed.

But there I was – in an amazing lapse of sanity – taking my kids to the pound in search of our dog. And there she was: a warm, fuzzy ball of beautiful white fur, begging me with her dark chocolate eyes to take her home. And before you could say canine incontinence, the Recorder's Pet of the Week was ours.

We've had Kimba for all of three days now and the kids love her ("Oh, look at how pretty she peed on the rug!"), my husband seems taken ("All dogs smell like that!"), and the cats have taken up permanent residence in my closet. Me? I'm just trying to figure out how I failed to notice her especially pungent dog-breath when she was in the pound. Oh, and I'm looking for that lunatic woman who uttered "Hey, kids, let's get a dog!"

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