"I won't have another dog in this house," I told my spouse firmly. "They're too much work." My lower lip jutted out determinedly, just to let him know I meant business. Our last dog lived a long, full, doggy life, and truly speaking, I didn't feel like going through it all over again.

"But this one's sooo cute," he insisted, tempting me with the cuddly, black mass of puppy he was holding, "on loan" from one of his buddies at work.

I peeked over at the tiny chin propped nobly over my spouse's arm, and the big, innocent brown eyes, almost pleading with me. That was a mistake.

"I said no," I repeated, trying to sound firm.

"Okay, then," he said sadly, while gently stroking the dog's ears. "But we'll have to keep him overnight--just for tonight. I told Art we'd bring ‘Gizmo' back tomorrow if you didn't want him."

Great. The puppy already had a name.

He set Gizmo on the floor, but I continued to ignore our temporary guest. Oddly, everywhere I went, Gizmo went too.

"He's following you like a magnet," my spouse said with a chuckle.

After supper, we set up a box with an old blanket tucked inside for the dog. Strangely enough, he went right to it, curled up, and was asleep in minutes.

"He likes it here," my husband remarked, grinning. I ignored him.

In the middle of the night, I rolled over and heard the puppy whimpering. I pulled the covers over my ears. After a moment, it got quiet. Too quiet. I began tossing around in bed wondering, What if he's sick? What if he's hurt? What if he's dead!

I couldn't stand it a minute longer and jumped out of bed to check on him. When I turned on the light, the dog was sitting up in the box, gazing pitifully at me.

"Oh, don't give me those eyes," I muttered, weakening.

Poor thing, I thought; he looks so sad. He probably misses his brothers and sisters—or his mother. I turned out the light but couldn't go back to bed.

Next morning, my husband stepped into the family room and stopped in his tracks. "What's this?" he said, when he saw me curled up in a rocking chair with a blanket—and the puppy.

"I couldn't help it," I said defensively. "He misses his mother."

And that's how Gizmo came to be a permanent member of our family.

Unlike cats, who let you use the house now and then, dogs become a part of your social life. One-on-one attention, that's all they ask for.

I'm a sucker for dogs, I know. But if and when my spouse ever wants another one, I will put my foot down with much more authority. Absolutely nothing will sway me from my resolution: no more dogs!

. . . As long as they don't give me the eyes.