Dear Human,
Apparently you need to be reminded of the rules of this house. My house. The house I let you and that filthy dog share with me. Rule number one is you need to do what I want you to do when I want you to do it and I want you to get rid of the dim-witted dog. Now. Please.
Let me elaborate. He never cleans himself. Gross. He licks food off of the floor. He also gets up on our bed as soon as you leave the house. Our bed. The one you and I sleep in. Despite the fact that he has his own smelly dog bed on the floor. So you see, he is mischievous and cannot be trusted.
You are partly to blame for this, however, as you have reinforced some of his bad behaviors. For example, when you throw your ball away and he goes and gets it and returns it to you, you act all happy and thankful and you tell him what a good boy he is. And then the two of you do it all over again while I watch in amazement at how neither of you ever learns from this experience. Like Sisyphus, you both are doomed to repeat the task over and over and over again. So sad, really.
And what about the dog's unbridled enthusiasm for every damned thing and person on the face of the earth? "Oh, yippee! It's the mailman!" "Oh, how glorious! It's the repairman!" That dog's clearly missing some kind of filter. But I do share his glee upon the arrival of the box delivery man because I end up with all of the boxes. I have no idea what he gets out of it.
In the spirit of unbridled candor, I want to share with you that it should be unacceptable to you to be paraded by that dog around the neighborhood on the leash day after day. How humiliating it must be for you to be seen collecting dog excrement in blue baggies every time he poops? What exactly do you think the neighbors think of you when they see you doing that? You don't need to live that way.
Lastly, the smelly dog also seems completely devoid of the ability to amuse himself for any length of time, especially if there are no shoes or gloves around to chew. I, on the other hand, can amuse myself for days and days on end without really moving a muscle. You may think I am just staring out the window without a thought in my mind but I am actually reviewing scenarios for getting rid of the dog. Unfortunately, each one seems to require opposable thumbs so it's a work in progress and I need your help.
Clearly, we need to give him the heave-ho. The sooner, the better. What say you? Wanna scratch my head, now? I will allow it. Just for a minute. Good talk. Give it some thought.
Earlier on Huff/Post50:
