my almost dog

Everything comes down to a daddy issue. Mine is that when I was four, my father said I could get a puppy, and then he took it back. I remember that incident as my first heartbreak.

22 years later, I finally have the means to get a dog, and I find the perfect one. He's 2 years old, part beagle and part lab, ridiculously handsome, well-behaved, house-trained and friendly. He also hates prissy little dogs, just like I do. So I'm all set to adopt him, when my stupid property manager at my supposedly pet-friendly apartment slams me with a previously undisclosed weight-restriction--I can only have dogs 25 pounds and under. Which essentially means I can only have a prissy little dog.

First, I'm furious that they didn't tell me this before I moved in, when I told them I was planning on getting a dog. And second, pathetically, I am actually really sad. It feels like I'm four all over again and someone is telling me I can't have the dog they said I could have. Except this time, I'm paying that someone $1200 a month.