A Letter To My 60+ Pound "Puppy",
You are over 60 pounds. And from what people tell me… you are still a puppy.
Not unlike my children when they were “puppies”, you like to be held.
Despite your adult-sized body, I know you are a puppy. I see how you leap. I see that look in your eyes that only the wee-people and animals make.
“Hold you me.”
I know that is what your puppy-dog eyes are saying.
Do you see you in that picture up there? Not so much, dude. The Humane Society said you were a lab’retriver mix. I think you are more a short haired sasquatch/dino mix.
So. Buddy. Step off. I’ll pat your head, but it is physically impossible for us to snuggle. AND you have claws. No so snuggly.
And your farts smell like you eat Death itself.
And you leave hair all over me.
Not on my list of favorite things…
I don’t even know how to close this letter… because, like – YOU CAN’T READ!
And WHEN DID I BECOME ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO WRITES TO and/or ABOUT HER DOG?
If I start dressing Kevin up and carrying him in a purse suitcase… please stage and intervention and save me from myself. And bring me lots of lint rollers. LOTS.
Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…
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