Dear "Mom" and "Dad,"
Please allow me this moment to say a few things while my nails are clipped and I have access to your computer. I, your beloved canine, otherwise referred to as "Baby," "Snookums," "Sweetie Pie," "Moo-Moo Face," "Tinkle Puppy," and "Our Kiddo," have a few things I'd like to get off my chest.
1. I am not a human child. Really, I appreciate all your kindness and good intentions, but please hear me out: I AM A DOG, AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT SPECIES. I don't "get" it when you treat me like a human. I totally don't understand most of the shit you say to me, don't need a tiny four-poster bed and my own CD player, and I love you mainly because you feed me and there aren't any other dogs in the house. I even like the cat a bit better than you.
2. I hate to be carried around like an infant everywhere you go. I have legs, you know. I don't like to be smashed up under your armpit, put in your stupid purse, or paraded around like a novelty. I'm shivering not because I am cold; I'm freaked out.
3. I don't like to wear clothes. I have fur. Anything else sucks for me. Quit putting damn sunglasses and booties and leopard-print jackets on me just so the rest of your creepy friends notice and go "Awwwwww, how cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!"
4. Stop kissing me. I'm going to remind you of something, and it's for your own good: when I am licking you all over your face, I probably am just trying to remove the taste of my own butt, which I just licked clean. This seems so obvious to me, but what do I know?
5. PUT AWAY THE PEANUT BUTTER. We shall say no more.
6. My desperate behavior when you leave me does not reflect my love for you. It's more about that you bought me from a disreputable backyard breeder, or a nasty pet shop who buys puppies from puppy mills. I'm a genetic mess; that's why I destroy the house, pee all over the place, and bite you in your sleep.
7. I don't like what you like. I don't like to watch endless hours of TV, and I get terrible gas and diarrhea from you feeding me a steady diet of people food.
8. I am not a replacement for the child you had, have, or wanted and never had. I can only bark incessantly, will die way sooner, and cannot give you actual human grandchildren. Really. I can't. REALLY.
9. You spoil me and then wonder why I'm a shit. Dogs only know about packs and hierarchies. If you aren't top dog, all the time, that means I AM, and I will run you ragged, never listen to you, and be nasty to other people and animals.
10. And finally, stop posting YouTubes of me walking across the piano and calling them "My Baby's Recital." Shudder.
OK, that's about it. I'm going to try to go pee on some trees and find a butt to sniff. Later.
Sincerely,
Your Dog
© Copyright 2008- Marianne Spellman