JAC B. TALKS
Whenever the opportunity comes up to cover a cute animal story in the newsroom, I pounce.
The community raised money to give a shelter dog surgery? *hand shoots up*
Bunnies are used for therapy at a senior citizen home? *through tears, "please pick me"*
Dog survives tornado? *already assigned story*
After every story that I cover, I'm convinced that its time for me to get a pet. Each time I get this urge, I call my mom and state my case.
Our typical conversation goes like this: I talk about how much I want a fluffy animal and my mom responds with the same five words every time. "Pompom does not need a friend."
Pompom is my super cute Pomeranian. She'll turn 14 in August.
Pompom is super high maintenance. She only drinks chilled water from the fridge, has an established bedtime and eats organic treats that my mom makes every two weeks.
Once when my parents were on vacation for two weeks, I had to actually take care of her. It was the longest two weeks of my life!
Pompom needed out, Pompom wanted to go to bed, Pompom was thirsty for fridge water. Pompom was a pain in my butt.
Every time that I get the hunch for a new animal, it is quickly shut down with the reminder that I could not take care of the dog I already owned for two weeks.