This past weekend, my younger sons, ages 7 and 9, started a campaign to convince me and my husband to get a dog.

We currently went through a grieving period for our beloved dog Clyde, who died this past November at age 14. I first met him and his sister, Bonnie, when they were only a few weeks old, a few months before I met my husband. Sadly, Bonnie died in 2010.

Right after Clyde died, my youngest son, who was very attached to our furry family member, wanted to immediately get another dog – one that looked exactly like Clyde – and he wanted to name him Clyde. Soon after, he announced that he never wanted to get another dog again because he didn’t ever want to forget Clyde.

Since he loves dogs so much, I knew that feeling wouldn’t last long.

Last weekend, the younger boys made a dog out of an empty milk carton. They named the “dog” Bydie, a combination of Bonnie and Clyde, and built him an elaborate dog house with books. They took him for a walk (initially they asked if I had kept Clyde’s collar and leash. I think I may have, but I’m not sure where they are so they just carried Bydie on the walk.) They even cut out a hole on the tail end of the carton and put pistachio seeds inside to shake out during the walk and scooped them up into a plastic sandwich bag.

On Monday morning, they took Bide for a short “walk” before school and my 9-year-old asked me if I would feed Bydie and take him for a walk during lunch since I work at home. Um, no, sorry.

“We’re trying to show you that we’ll take care of a new dog,” they said. “Yes, he’ll sleep in our room and we’ll take care of him. We’ll feed him and walk him and clean up after him.”

It kinds of reminds me of the high school project where you take care of an egg for a week and that’s supposed to teach you about having a baby. I get the idea, but it’s not really the same. Not the same at all. But the boys do get an A for effort.