The Wrong Spots

Caring for my new puppy is utterly exhausting.

I get up at 5am when I hear the whine. Her tail is a blur. Her little body is made of rubber. Desperately, she bounces to reach my face to greet me with her tiny pin teeth.

I wash her smelly paws while she wriggles incessantly. I clean up the mess in her bed then take her outside a so she can produce yet more. And so begins another day of boundless energy, constant attention and frequent toilet trips.

All I can think about is sleep. I'm a wreck. Dark circles weigh on my eyes and everything sounds muffled. Every movement is a struggle. In my desperation I decide return her to her original owner.

Regret turns to panic. I ask for her back but the owner brings me puppy after puppy that looks like mine - but is not quite right. The grey and white splodges and spots are slightly different shapes or sizes on every one.

Panic turns to despair. I realise I've made a terrible decision that I cannot undo.