We’re in the market for (groan) a new car. My husband’s truck gets 15 miles per gallon, needs air conditioning work, and before long it will need $1000 worth of big expensive tires. That’s not to mention the fact that it’s a terrible fit for our urban life. The financial sense has finally clicked over to “buy” rather than “continue to get along.”
Silas is, by the way, scared to ride in the truck. I can’t blame him–the truck is rougher over the road, bigger, and louder than my small SUV.
A few days ago, I caught myself saying, “You know, we could buy [car X]. It looks almost exactly like my car. Silas would love that.” My husband said, “You’re right! He wouldn’t be afraid of it at all.”
This is life with an anxious dog, people.