I wanted a baby.

I was 22 years old, five seconds post college graduation and fiercely yearning for a little person inside our newlywed home.

So my husband used the oldest trick in the put-your-wife-off-another-year book, and he got me a dog.

Technically, he stole the dog from his brother, who raised the most amazingly well-behaved and well-trained beagles for hunting dogs.

We, however, did not get one of those dogs.