“We can find a spot for him right by the back door, I promise.”

That was the last normal thing my son, David, said to me. He was twelve years old, standing there in our kitchen with dirt on his knees and a little brown dog shivering in his arms.

The dog had one ear that stood straight up and another that flopped down over his eye. He looked like he had seen a rough life for such a tiny thing. David was looking at me with those wide, hopeful eyes, and for a second, I actually felt my own heart soften. I almost said yes.

But then I thought about the house. I thought about the mud, the vet bills, and the extra mouth to feed. I was tired that year. My husband had just started working nights, and I was doing everything else by myself. I was smoking a pack of cigarettes a day and spending thirty-five dollars a week on them, but I told myself I didn’t have the budget for a pet. That was a lie, and I knew it even then. I just didn’t want the extra responsibility.

“No, David, put him down,” I said.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t scream. He just looked at me, gave the dog one last gentle pet on the head, and walked him back out to the car. We drove to the animal shelter in total silence. I remember the way the heater hummed in the old station wagon. It was the only sound for miles. When we got there, he carried the dog inside and handed him over to the lady at the front desk.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t even sniffle. He just turned around, walked back to the car, and climbed into the passenger seat. That was worse than any tantrum he could have thrown.

It was like he just shut a door in his heart and locked it. I thought he would get over it in a week or two, but he never asked for a pet again. Not a dog, not a cat, not even a hamster.

Years turned into decades. David grew up, moved out, and got married. We stayed in touch, of course, but things were always a little bit formal between us. We talked about the weather and his job and how the garden was doing. We never talked about the things that really mattered. I watched him become a man who kept his house very clean and his life very quiet. He never had a dog. He never even mentioned wanting one.