Letter to My Dog
Dear Dog:
Since you seem to have so much trouble processing the English
language no matter how loudly it is spoken to you, I thought perhaps I
could communicate with you more effectively if I wrote down my
thoughts.
First, please allow me to assure you that you are not starving. In
fact, if the newspapers bothered to publish a canine version of those
irritating "body-mass indices" that my daughter so delights in reading
aloud to me, I'm sure we would discover that you've got far more
waddle in your walk than is strictly necessary. The way you visually
track every bite of food I take, with a trembling expression of
frantic pleading, is most annoying.
Speaking of walks: We've been taking the same route around the same
block for nine years. For you to sob, whine, and tremble every time I
get out your leash is just crazy.
And would you please stop rolling in road kill? Dead animals smell
like...well, like dead fish. There is a reason I give you a bath
every single time you roll in something--it is NOT a coincidence.
Here's a news flash: Our next-door neighbors LIVE THERE. They have
a right to be in their own yard! Stop barking at them through our
windows! Your crazed fury is especially irritating in view of the
fact that when you actually encounter them in person you flop on your
back and let them rub your tummy. As a guard dog, you're about as
intimidating as a gerbil.
The following are not digestible: Balloons. Crayons. Socks. I can
show you evidence out in the yard. Stop eating them; they are not
food!
I do not mind rolling down the window for you when we are in the car.
I don't even mind that the air rushing up your nostrils makes you
sneeze. What I do mind is that you always pull your head into the car
to share your sneeze with the back of my neck. Keep your head in or
out, that's all I ask.
Our front door is three inches of solid wood; you can not tunnel
through it. Stop clawing! Don't we always let you out when you need
to go?
The bushes in the back yard cost a lot of money, but there is nothing
of value hidden under them. Stop digging for buried treasure!
The stuff in the trash can is not your food. Oh, and your expression
of shocked innocence when we accuse you of dining at the garbage
buffet is not nearly as persuasive as the forensic evidence left
strewn around the kitchen. Stop blaming the cat; she doesn't eat
anything that costs less than a dollar an ounce.
Oh, and speaking of the cat, just because she gets to sleep on the
bed doesn't mean that you do too. Did you think we wouldn't notice
all the dog fur on our bedspread when we got home?
And another thing: I do not wake up at the same time every day! On
days we don't work, we're allowed to sleep past our normal waking
time. Stop licking my face because your internal clock says it is
time for breakfast. Don't dogs DO weekends?
Look, you do make me crazy sometimes. But I suppose I have to admit
that even though you're lazy (you probably won't even bother to read
this letter!) and don't seem very bright, you do have your positive
attributes. You're the only one in the family who will get up and
pace with me in front of the window when it's past curfew and my
teenage daughter is parked in the driveway with her date. You're the
only one who likes my cooking, and you share my opinion that we don't
need a cat. After nine years of living with you, I suppose life just
wouldn't be the same without you.
Wanna go for a walk?
- Bruce Cameron -
[ by
W. Bruce Cameron Copyright © 2003, (bruce@wbrucecameron.com) -- {used with permission} ]
Inspirational Humor
SkyWriting.Net
All Rights Reserved.
|