The road was dark as the navy blue Nissan Murano rolled up the paved road.  Over the river and through the woods it trekked, across bridges and around trees.  The tall oak trees blanketed the bright morning sun.  Finally, the vehicle broke through the woods into an open field, and the summer sun shined overhead.  I could hear the crunch of the now gravel road underneath the wheels of our car.  Although we were only fifteen minutes from our house, this place looked like it could be in the woods of Maine.  I glanced around the car.  My sister, Elizabeth, was to my right in the back seat.  She had brown hair and was 15 years old, and was peering out the window, tapping her leg in excitement, waiting until we arrived.  In front of me was my dad, Michael, maneuvering the car along this meandering road.  He had short black hair and green eyes, and was humming the song on the radio to himself.  Diagonal from me was my mother, Karen, with blonde hair and brown eyes.  She was on her phone, tapping away.  It was a quiet car.

I glanced back outside.  We passed a farm that looked like it stretched forever.  The tomato plants were still growing, bending in the wind.  I could see the silo and the windmill, turning clockwise.  I was as excited as a kid on halloween.  We were going to get a dog.  I have always wanted a dog.  The only thing, though, was that I was allergic to some dogs.  I remembered our first dog, a Terrier.  We had him for two months.  It took that long to realize that I was allergic to him.  I would always remember what happened.  My eyes swelled up like balloons.  My nose was as runny as an olympic sprinter.  It was the worst I had felt since I had the flu.  Just recalling it gave me chills.  We gave the dog away to another family.  Hopefully it would turn out better with this dog.
Finally, we stopped.  I looked up from my book.  We were there.  I opened the car door and hopped out.  A gust of wind suddenly blew past.  A scent blew towards me.  It smelled like a farm.  There were crops and animals in the fields.  There was a never ending sea of corn stalks growing to the left, and horses to the right.  We walked towards the only house on the farm, about 100 yards away, on a dirt path.  I was jogging ahead and encouraging my family to walk faster, but they just laughed and walked at the same speed.  After what seemed like a millenia, we reached the house and met the people who would give us the dog.  We were to get the dog and take it home for three days.  If my allergies didn’t act up after the three days, then we could keep the dog.  If not, then we would not be able to keep it.  My parents signed some papers, we talked for a while, then they brought the dog out.  The dog had blonde hair, brown eyes, and was only three weeks old.  She walked to us, and we put her in the car.  I would never see the farm again.

We drove back home back through the woods.  I kept looking at the dog, having flashbacks of our previous one.  I felt like any minute I would sneeze, but I didn’t.  Maybe I was imagining things.

When we pulled into the driveway, I jumped out of the car and took the dog with me.  I took my dog for a walk around the block.  Any minute I was expecting to sneeze, but I didn’t.  I started having hope, but I didn’t get my hopes up yet.

I figured that I would react more if I went inside, so I spent a little while inside my house.  I spent the whole rest of the day with my dog, and so far, so good.  That night, I went upstairs and went to bed, thinking of what life would be like with a dog.

The morning of the second day started with a scare.  I woke up with a runny nose.  I thought it was over.  I was blowing my nose repeatedly.  I sauntered down the stairs, upset.  “I guess I’m allergic to all dogs” I thought.
I approached my mom with sorrow.  “Mom…” I rasped with a nasally voice, “I guess I’m allergic to this dog.”  I felt horrible, just like when I had my first dog.

“It’s not just you,” she said.  We all feel horrible.”  She grabbed a tissue and blowed her nose vigorously.  Immediately my spirits lifted.

“Why is everyone sick?” I asked.

“I don’t know… Let’s turn on the weather channel.”  We sped into the family room and flipped on the Weather Channel.  We waited impatiently for the ‘Local on the 8s’ to come on, in silence.  After what seemed like an hour, the music started playing, and I read the report.  Pollen levels were very high.  The little pointer on the TV was in the red portion of the pollen diagram.

“That’s it!” I said, “the pollen levels are high.  I'm allergic to the pollen, not to the dog!”

The day passed with me blowing my nose and sneezing, but I knew I had not reacted yet.  Two days were down, and one day was left.  I started getting my hopes up, but I knew that tomorrow could bring anything.

The next day, the pollen levels were back to normal.  I felt normal, and took the dog for another walk.  She seemed happy to get exercise.  By noon, I felt good, and thought our chances of keeping the dog were getting higher and higher.  That day I had a lacrosse game, and won.  By the time I came home from the lacrosse game, it was the evening, and there were only a few hours left for my allergies to act up.  It was the final countdown.
I waited in suspense for the day to end, hoping that my allergies wouldn’t act up in the last few hours.  I thought that if I had made it this far, then I probably wouldn’t react at all.

Finally, the day ended, and the following morning was as joyful as the sun.  I was so excited that we finally had a dog that we could keep.  We started brainstorming names for our dog.  After a while, we all agreed on a name: Layla.

We still own Layla to this day.