The following is a letter which I should have written to my dog. Being a Boxer, he would have been too stubborn to read it.
Dear Dube,
I believe we recently had a heart-to-heart talk regarding your proclivity for snacking on the corners of the coffee table. I'd like to hear your comments upon your having read this letter.
First, I wish to remind you that Gravy Train and Gains-Burgers are both sufficiently high in fiber. Now, I realize that the hardwood (which is of an unknown wood) provides your teeth and gums with a lovely workout. However, I believe that the beef knuckle, which mom brought home from the butcher, should have provided such dental hygiene. As a dog of your ninety-five pound stature can express, that was readily apparent by the loud cracking sound which brought certain family members running to investigate the sound's source. Who knew that even a cattle bone can shatter like that?
The fact that you were able to crack the rather heavy bovine bone with such mandibular prowess indicates to me that you knew the risks which you placed upon one of Grand Home Furnishing's finest living room offerings.
And yet, the fact that you chose to go beaver on the living room's centerpiece indicates a suspicious degree of impulsiveness on your part.
Now, to be clear I love you. Any dog who can lip synch opera music, which mom happened to be listening to while grading papers, is certainly one who can attract any heart. (I don't think you were actually yawning, by the way.) And yes, I love you even though you do steal my dirty clothes from my laundry basket and occasionally stop off at the hallway bathroom for a nightcap. But you have to admit that snacking on the furniture is a poor substitute for being productive.
Which brings us to the immediate issue: when do you intend to find a job so that you can pay for the damage? I realize that you can't drive yourself to work since (a) you don't have your own car, and (b) since you couldn't reach the pedals anyway. Please keep in mind that I'll be happy to drive you to and from work, and even sit with you during your interview. (As a reminder, you'll need to do something about your breath. I can appreciate the importance of good hygiene and manners, but PLEASE do everyone involved a favor and don't lick your butt while at work.) Be advised that if you don't find some source of income, I'll have to dock your allowance until the table has been repaired and refinished.
The Boxer breed is highly mischievous, which I adore. I hope that you won't take that as a green light to continue chewing the wood trim between the window panes in the living room window no matter how many squirrels you see outside, however. It would be better for the entire family, including you, if you were to find a hobby, or at least renew your library card.
One more thing: I love you unconditionally. I think you learned that last Wednesday, when you jumped onto my bed and pushed me out of it. Did I complain? Well, yes, but at least the doctor said that the concussion wasn't a serious one.
Please relay to Bouncer that I love him too, and I forgive him for what he did under the pool table the other day.
Your big brother,
Rob
Dear Dube,
I believe we recently had a heart-to-heart talk regarding your proclivity for snacking on the corners of the coffee table. I'd like to hear your comments upon your having read this letter.
First, I wish to remind you that Gravy Train and Gains-Burgers are both sufficiently high in fiber. Now, I realize that the hardwood (which is of an unknown wood) provides your teeth and gums with a lovely workout. However, I believe that the beef knuckle, which mom brought home from the butcher, should have provided such dental hygiene. As a dog of your ninety-five pound stature can express, that was readily apparent by the loud cracking sound which brought certain family members running to investigate the sound's source. Who knew that even a cattle bone can shatter like that?
The fact that you were able to crack the rather heavy bovine bone with such mandibular prowess indicates to me that you knew the risks which you placed upon one of Grand Home Furnishing's finest living room offerings.
And yet, the fact that you chose to go beaver on the living room's centerpiece indicates a suspicious degree of impulsiveness on your part.
Now, to be clear I love you. Any dog who can lip synch opera music, which mom happened to be listening to while grading papers, is certainly one who can attract any heart. (I don't think you were actually yawning, by the way.) And yes, I love you even though you do steal my dirty clothes from my laundry basket and occasionally stop off at the hallway bathroom for a nightcap. But you have to admit that snacking on the furniture is a poor substitute for being productive.
Which brings us to the immediate issue: when do you intend to find a job so that you can pay for the damage? I realize that you can't drive yourself to work since (a) you don't have your own car, and (b) since you couldn't reach the pedals anyway. Please keep in mind that I'll be happy to drive you to and from work, and even sit with you during your interview. (As a reminder, you'll need to do something about your breath. I can appreciate the importance of good hygiene and manners, but PLEASE do everyone involved a favor and don't lick your butt while at work.) Be advised that if you don't find some source of income, I'll have to dock your allowance until the table has been repaired and refinished.
The Boxer breed is highly mischievous, which I adore. I hope that you won't take that as a green light to continue chewing the wood trim between the window panes in the living room window no matter how many squirrels you see outside, however. It would be better for the entire family, including you, if you were to find a hobby, or at least renew your library card.
One more thing: I love you unconditionally. I think you learned that last Wednesday, when you jumped onto my bed and pushed me out of it. Did I complain? Well, yes, but at least the doctor said that the concussion wasn't a serious one.
Please relay to Bouncer that I love him too, and I forgive him for what he did under the pool table the other day.
Your big brother,
Rob
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