I'm listening to the plaintive cry of a Beagle in the next yard. He sounds like he's howling in pain but since he does this every quarter hour I think he just suffers from separation anxiety. His owners do a very good job of ignoring him, the rest of the neighbors? Not so much.

It's been over a year since our dog departed and I still look for signs of healing from the husband. The dogs' toys still lay at his feet under his desk where he spends most of his days as a sort of memorial to the past. One day he'll move them to a box and put them 'away' and we'll be able to say the official mourning period is over. In the meantime the rallying cry for a new dog carries on -sounding much like the baying of the Beagles' over the fence. Only louder.

The one picture I have of that little bastard (technically, correct) he looks like he's giving the camera a dirty look.

"F*** arf."

I mentioned the $10,000 in furniture, accessories and medication, yes?

Instead of the toys he barely chewed on (he was too busy working his way through the living room couch) I choose to keep the pile of receipts from his life under my desk. Just in case I start to soften. Monetarily, we don't want a dog. Emotionally? Well, we still miss that little guy.

So why is it that everyone we know who would NEVER own a dog suddenly has one? They whip out the 'baby' pictures and tell endearing tales of dog-training. Their stories charm me, make my heart skip a beat and I think "Maybe I'm ready!"

That is, until I get home and see the little pile of toys still sitting at his master's feet... and hear the howls of the damn dog next door.

Nope. Not ready.