Little Sam was born and I hardly had time to breathe, or sleep, or eat, let alone take walks. I hired a babysitter a couple of hours a week, and when I didn't use the time to collapse on my bed, I scrounged up the leashes.
We were ready for a dog because our children had broken us in. Bones and squeaky toys strewn around the floor? We had given up on actually seeing the carpet long ago. Accidents during crate training? Did I mention I had toilet trained two boys?