I wanted a dog ever since I was three years old, but my parents kept telling me that I had to wait. “I have too much to take care of already,” said my mom. “Dogs are smelly,” said my dad. (He was a cat person.) They told me that they would reconsider once my baby brother started kindergarten. That seemed so far away.

To satisfy my need for a pet, my parents bought me a leopard gecko that I named “Dexter.” Though I love Dexter, all he does is eat crickets and hang out in his cave. I can never tell if he’s happy to see me. For Christmas, I got a mechanical golden retriever named “Biscuit” who looks and sounds very real. I enjoyed interacting with Biscuit at first, but then I lost interest in her limited range of tricks.

Earlier this year, my campaign for a real dog gathered full force. I plastered dog photos and dog propaganda all over my room, much to my mom’s dismay. I started a dog lovers’ club with some friends in the neighborhood. We got together once a week to play with my make-believe miniature dog world and to discuss the awesomeness of dogs. I had a dog-themed birthday party, and every book that I checked out of the library was about dogs. I marketed the different breeds to my parents: “This one doesn’t shed.” “This one doesn’t bark.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a breed that didn’t poop.

When my parents suggested that I donate some of my Christmas money to a charity, I picked North Shore Animal League America. We live close by, and I had visited it every chance I got. I saw that the animals were very well cared for. I raised almost $300 for the shelter. It felt great knowing that a dog or a cat would have a new bed or a new toy because of me. When I dropped off the check, a staff member gave me an Animal League baseball cap, which I wear all the time.

Eventually, my persistence paid off. My parents grew tired of saying “no” and realized how much having a dog would mean to me. My whole family went to the Pet Adoptathon on May 2nd to pick out our new dog. We got there early and anxiously waited in line for the doors to open. We looked at a handful of dogs before a volunteer brought us Misty, a three-year-old Border collie mix. The volunteer said that she was a very sweet dog, and he was right. She rested her chin and paws on our laps and soaked up the affection. She happily went to anyone who would give her love. We knew she was the dog for us.

We have had Misty for several weeks, and she’s now a comfortable member of our family. When my sister and I get off the bus, she greets us with joy and excitement. She made friends with a group of other neighborhood dogs, and she runs and plays with them in the park each morning. For the most part, she knows her limits. She stays close to us and follows the house rules. My mom is surprised by how much she’s enjoying Misty. She loves running long distances with her. My little sister, Ava, who used to be afraid of dogs, often hugs and sweet-talks Misty. Misty is even gentle enough to play with my three-year-old brother, Luca. Even my dad, who had the most reservations, often admits what a great dog Misty is. I know that someday soon, he’ll turn into a dog person like me!

By Gemma Fasciano

(Age 9)