So I had a simple task: Go to the Humane Society and pick out a small dog, preferably older and house-broken. I came back with a German Shepard/Golden Retriever mix. She's 2 and house-broken, at least. Our son named her Ranger, but if you want to get her attention call her Sheba. Here she is chewing a rawhide chew toy the size of a rolled-up newspaper.
I have been relieved of all decision-making responsibilities at my house.