Jillian sat at her desk practicing visualizations, as had been suggested to her by a few members of her church group. When someone opened the door, she thought “Action!” and then her face would become bright and her voice would flow easily out of her mouth and she could say, “Oh, hi, how are you?” as if she had no real problems of her own. This ticket thing would not do. That stupid woman at the court office telling her she had to pay nine dollars to get a special form to attach to the money order to get the hold taken off her license. I spent nine dollars on lunch today, she thought. I’m not going to spend nine dollars on a piece of paper. And Miss Prissy-Prim Tight-Lips Megan over there on the other side of the office, what was her problem? But I will have that dog, she said to herself, because the dog was part of the visualization she was doing. Where do you want to see yourself in half a year? In half a year I want to see myself walking down the sidewalk with this internet dog, Carla. Carla would be an ok name. Walking down the sidewalk with Carla, the dog of the day, practically a famous dog. How silly. But this dog was essential, and this dog cost as much as the fine she had to pay as a result of an accident she’d been seriously injured in, and the court should pay her in her opinion, not the other way around.

For the visualizations, she knew she was supposed to pick something that went good with her personality, so that’s why the dog made sense. She was a mother, a nurturer. Also, being a mother meant you had a kid to entertain, which meant you had to give it something to play with, which was why (another reason why) the dog made sense. And she lived outside the city, in an apartment, yes, but still outside the city, and she’d heard city dogs weren’t that happy. She knew she wasn’t going to pick something like “become a rock star in half a year” even though she’d had a pretty good voice as a kid—haha!—and kind of a rock star’s appetites, if you know what I mean. And that would be a good reason to not pick rock star, too. That was her old life and personality. Now she was mom and worker (not just worker, but office manager, since Miss Tight-Lips had no interest in advancement, it seemed) and a dog would suit her just fine, so she would get Carla and a month from now that dog would be frolicking in the medians at the end of her leash.

She would not use a choke collar, obviously.