Decisions

The little boy stared forlornly at the litter of puppies rolling and playing behind the fence. One of them, with brown fur and a white tipped nose, bounded awkwardly up to the fence on too-large feet and stared back at the boy. The boy's frown slowly edged into a smile, and he reached down a hand to pet the dog. His tail wagging, the brown puppy permitted himself to be stroked a few times before running off to follow some new and exciting smell. The eyes of the boy followed the dog as he went, but then were attracted to another puppy, a solid black one, who came walking up and was duly petted until he too went about his puppyish business.
"Well, son," said the boy's father as he came walking up. "Have you decided which one you want?"
"Not yet, Dad. I'm still looking."
"Still looking? Son, we've been here for more than an hour. You've had plenty of time, so surely you know which one you want by now."
The boy turned to his father, his eyes full of tortured indecision.
"I don't know, Dad! I don't know! Do I have to pick just one?"
"Only one. But think," the father's comforting hand engulfed his young son's shoulder, "that one puppy will be just your own. Your one puppy to love and raise and train all yourself. Think how much fun you'll have! Why, if you had two, you could only have half as much fun with each of them. Better to have one real good dog."
Turning back to the fence, the boy grasped it in a death grip and swept his eyes over the furry, slobbery spectacle it contained. "But," the boy's voice was low and sad. "But if I pick just one, that means we have to leave all the other ones out here, right? And all the puppies are so nice, Dad. I think they would all be good pets."
"Well son, just pick your favorite."
"But Dad...I like them all."