The Beg-a-holics.

I just want to officially, for the record, state that my neighbors are EVIL.

Not only do they have three beautiful outdoor dogs…and two lambs…and (sometimes they even have) rabbits that my kids are so very envious of, they are also now the proud owners of this little guy:

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Mr. (cuter than all-get-out) Blackjack.

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They are now, according to my kiddos, the coolest house ever to hang out at.

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Blackjack literally weighs 3 pounds and is the one of the cutest things I have ever seen in my life.

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My neighbors are evil just for that reason alone, but then on top of Blackjack…two of their outdoor dogs just had eleven puppies.

Eleven. Puppies.

Sweet, adorable puppies living right next door to my house.

I am in so much trouble.

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For the last two weeks, the begging has been non-stop. Constant, unending begging. At all hours of the day.

All four of the kids have been beg-a-holics, but Weslea has been the most committed begger by far.

She has drawn me at least 20 pictures explaining why she needs a puppy. I have had paper airplanes flown at me when I am working at the computer…and when I open them up they say “Weslea needs a puppy.” or “Please, please, please, please, please let me have one of their puppies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” (That note had exactly 16 exclamation points in it. I counted.)

Pictures of puppies with pretty pink collars on them. Pictures of puppies with really long ears. Pictures of puppies wearing baseball caps. Pictures of puppies wearing clothes. Gray puppies. Brown puppies. Yellow puppies. Black puppies. Tan puppies. Rainbow puppies!

One picture very clearly stated “I NEED A PUPPY!” in all caps (just in case I wasn’t sure if she really wanted a puppy or not.)

It’s enough to wear down even the most die-hard “I don’t want a dog in this household” mom.

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I am not a bad person. I like dogs just fine. It’s just that on Tuesday at 7:55 a.m. our youngest child is heading off to all-day Kindergarten.

For the first time in eleven years I am going to be home all by myself for six hours every single day.

{Excuse me while I take a moment to savor that thought.}

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A puppy would be like having another baby to take care of. Only this baby would poop on my floor and chew my furniture and shed in any painting jobs I decide to take on and whine every hour when I just want things to be nice and quiet and lick me constantly, and….

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Ugh.

It is so tempting though. So very, very tempting.

I must stand firm in my convictions! I’ll just repeat that creed to myself at least 20 times a day and then I’ll be just fine.

Maybe…