Nobody, but nobody, can resist the Winchester Puppy Dog Eyes.
"You know we can't keep it."
The gangly, overgrown, almost grown, puppy plopped down on its butt and watched the conversation going on over his head.
"I didn't say keep it, I only said overnight. He's got the rabies tag on his collar, we can call and get his owner's number from them. They won't be open at nine o'clock at night."
"Yes, he's got a collar. He belongs to somebody. They're probably out looking for him right now."
Back and forth, the puppy swiveled its head from one voice to the other.
"I checked. I walked all around the block with him, but nobody recognized him. He'll only be here a few hours."
"Twelve hours…no, do not give me that face."
"What face?"
"The 'oh, come on, please' face. You look sadder than that puppy. You've got puppy dog eyes."
"I do not have puppy dog eyes."
"You do. Whenever you want something and I won't give in, you always give me puppy dog eyes and I cave."
"You cave, hunh? I give you the puppy dog eyes and you cave?"
"Stop it."
"So that means the puppy can stay overnight?"
"Ugh, yes. Just for tonight. But you call the rabies people first thing in the morning."
The puppy wagged its tail, and John kissed his wife.
"Thanks, Mare."
The end.