Maybe dear is too intimate a greeting here. You’re not my dog, after all. And even if you were, I’m not sure I’d reference you with such affection. Though you did follow me home, much to my chagrin. I’m just glad I didn’t have any kibble available, because I know I would have fed you and then you would have never left.
Because while I may talk a big game, I’m really a softie. Just ask my parents. They were left with a batch of strays I couldn’t help but offer a home when I moved out.
Which isn’t to say you’re not cute. You’re very cute. With your pointy black ears and enthusiastic tail, I want to scratch your scruffy belly. It’s just, you see, you’re a puppy with a lot of energy. Too much for me to handle right now, to be honest. Just the thought of you is exhausting. Though, admittedly, that isn’t a terrible feat with 3 kids who run circles around me. I could barely muster the gumption to take care of our cat, and he just slept all day.
This is what I’m asking of you, then. I know it’s not fun to be restrained. You want to run! And chase squirrels! And kids! Must tackle the kids! But I worry about you when you’re out there, alone. I mean, there are cars and the bad things that could happen make me want to look out for you. You damn dog.
So if you could just stay in your own yard. Or at least stop excitedly lunging for us at lightning speed from out of nowhere as we shuffle to the bus stop. You’re scaring the crap out of my daughter and making my already sucktastic mornings even more difficult. That much would be appreciated.
I hope we have an understanding,
The one with your eager dirty paw prints on her pants