"You're jealous of the dog," says my shrink. "He has siphoned off some of your husband's attention." Absurd! I think. But then, sometimes, I spot my husband singing to his pooch: Salvy, we love YOU! We LOVE you! WE love you! Sa-a-al-vy, we love YOU! And: Salvy! Swimming across the deep blue sea! Salvy! You'll always be a part of me! Around Christmas, my husband began murmuring about a new device. It was a camera you could install in your pet's den, so that you could view your pet, on your phone, at all times. The camera also had a small orifice, and the machine would spit out bits of kibble at your prompting. Plus: It offered "Dog TV" and "aromatherapy." My husband spoke more and more about this, and I understood that he was leaving hints. He was identifying the gift he wanted me to pick up. The gift I could give him for Christmas. And I silently refused. I saw this as the potential death of romance. In January, ...