Tuesday, April 14, 2015
A Letter to My Favorite Daughter - Even though She Can't Read
You know, you're ten years old now. . . which in doggie years I believe is 70.
You're an old lady, my love.
So could you tell me why in god's name you have suddenly become disobedient in your old age? Why - when your invisible fence has been broken for the last six years (which equates to 42 in your life) have you decided to make a run for it?
All for the sake of a little food . . .
Now I know as we females get older, we don't care so much for our outward appearance. Sometimes we even allow ourselves to get a little curvey around the edges. Is that what's happened? Have you finally realized that Mr. Woofy Right is never going to come along? Especially while you're stuck inside that fence?
Whatever the reason, once you discovered that our neighbors feed the birds their leftover bread and rolls, you hang an immediate right after exiting the house and head in that direction. You think you've suddenly died and gone to heaven, now don't you Missy? FREE FOOD!!! It's too good to be true. Nice crunchy, stale bread. . . sometimes even soggy from the morning dew. . .crusts of peanut butter sandwiches. . . the occasional bagel (JACKPOT!). . .why I even saw an apple out there one day. Much better than those little round droppings the herd of deer leave you on their way through. Right?
Not that I'm condoning consumption of deer turds, but at least they're in your own yard (yes, I realize that you've discovered quite an untouched stash in the neighbor's yard as well) and we need you to stay close to home. Please don't make me don my rainboots and have to trudge over hill and dale to retrieve you.
You're the retriever, silly, not me!
And besides, this Sjogren's makes me feel like I'm at least 80 years old so you see that my Sjogren's years are older than your doggie years and it just isn't fair.
You want to remain my favorite daughter now don't you?
Because Ponzi and Trigger have both come home to take up residentce after college and show no signs of ever going away again. . .