Declan's wildest dreams came true this morning, even if only for about three minutes.

Back story: Declan has five stuffed dogs--Mr. Woof Woof, Max, Chewy, Curious George, and Piano. Yes, he named them himself. Why do you ask? He sets them up around the kitchen table and serves them food from the play kitchen; we find them posed on the floor eating play sausages and drinking out of bowls; he straps them in the car, stroller, high chair, etc; he sleeps with them at night. He loves these dogs. Occasionally, he sighs and says, "I've never had a real dog. Just pretend dogs. Sad."

Back to this morning: Declan and Eleanor went out to play this morning, while I cleaned in their bedroom and watched them through the sliding glass door. They were squealing and running around the side of the house, and when I called to them to stay in the back, they responded that they were looking for a dog.

"We have a real dog! We have a real dog! We are the luckiest kids ever!"

I ignored this.

"Mom! A dog loves us! It wants to live at our house!"

I ignored this.

"Mom! Can we keep this real dog?"

I looked out the window to see my children sprinting across the backyard chasing a terrified chihuahua. I ran outside, tried to catch the dog, jumped back when it growled and snapped at me, and then saw a woman on the back porch of the house next door calling for a dog. The dog heard her calling and squeezed back through a hole in the fence between our two houses, thus solving the mystery of how we acquired a snappy chihuahua for about three minutes this morning. I also got to meet my very friendly neighbor, who just moved in last night.

Declan was very disappointed, and kept moping around the house saying, "I'm so sorry I didn't catch that dog. I'm so sorry I'm not a boy with a real dog." We are not getting a real dog. Sorry, kid.