My stepdaughter, Daisy, got a dog for emotional support after her dad died. But my son is allergic.
My wife knew this, but she said, “Just keep him away from the dog. Daisy is hurting!”
So I secretly gave it away. That night, I was crushed to find my son sitting on the stairs, red-eyed and wheezing, while Daisy screamed from upstairs like I’d murdered someone.

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I never wanted things to get that far.
My son, Reza, is eleven. He has asthma, triggered by pet dander, especially dogs. We found out the hard way when he was five and pet a Labrador at a birthday party. That night we ended up in the ER.
Daisy is sixteen. She’s my stepdaughter—my wife Soraya’s from her first marriage. Her dad passed away suddenly last fall. Heart attack. It rocked the entire house. I mean, the man wasn’t even fifty. Daisy didn’t talk for two weeks straight after the funeral.