A Letter to My Puppy

My puppy turned one this week, but I’m having a difficult time wanting to celebrate because I have some built up bitterness towards her. So in honor of her birthday, I’d like to use this opportunity to express all my grievances in the form of this letter, so that we can put our differences aside and properly celebrate her first year of life.

Dear Miley,
You’re one now, which technically means you’re seven in dog years, so it’s high time you grew up. Honestly.

You are oh so incredibly annoying.

First of all, you are ever so intrusive. Whether I’m eating, putting away my laundry, or taking a shower, you’re always there. And when I say you’re there, I’m not just talking about your physical presence in the room; I mean you are literally smack dab in the center of whatever I’m doing, looking up at me like you need to tell me something.

You are STILL not potty trained. I’m at my wits end with you. We’ve tried schedules, we’ve tried consistency, and we’ve even tried punishing you when you poop in the house. But as expected, you respond to not one of those methods. You’re the reason I spent $60 and an entire Saturday shampooing carpets. You’re also the reason I want a cat. Thanks a million. And just when I thought those puppy potty training pads would save the day, you ate them.

And speaking of eating, you eat EVERYTHING. From carpet to Luke’s dresser drawer knob, you eat it all. Everything is viewed as food, ready to be devoured. You dump over my trash can daily, dragging out each piece of garbage and spreading it throughout my room. And I especially love it when you chew on my socks, or eat food right out of my hand.

You’re stubborn. You know how I said you’re always there? Well, you are, except for the times when I call you. Then, of course, you run in the opposite direction like a disobedient child. You respond to nothing. Not a call, a yell, a whistle, nothing. And I really love it when you get out without a leash, and you take off through the streets, lacking any regard or attention for the numerous cars driving by.

You’re abusive. When the other two dogs are just minding their business, quietly napping in the corner, there you are, gnawing at one of their ears. And poor little Zoey, she’s so overweight, and instead of having compassion, you mercilessly maul the poor thing until someone intervenes.

And finally, your bark. Words cannot adequately describe how extremely irritating it really is. Every time you bark, I feel suicidal, like I’d rather die than endure the sound of it. The sheer volume of it could give a freight train a run for its money. And the sad thing about it is, you bark for absolutely no reason whatsoever. You bark at the air, at bugs, and worst of all- me. You seriously bark every time I walk through the door, as if I’m some stranger you’ve never seen before.

Somehow in the last year, the lines between human and dog have been blurred, and you really seem to have lost sight of who is in charge. I’m going to let you in on a secret – it isn’t you. So please, do me a favor, and understand: my food is not your food, my socks are not your socks, and most importantly- my bed is not your bed!

You leave me wondering daily what your problem is. You need major help and really, you’re just pretty clueless in general. I know there are some pretty dumb dogs out there, but you my friend, surpass them all.

But honestly, you’re so stinkin’ cute. You look at me with that adorable puppy face, and for a split second I forget that you’re a complete nuisance. And even though I’m really only half kidding when I say I’m surprised I haven’t killed you yet, I’m kind of glad I haven’t. You’ll probably kill me first.

Happy Birthday Stinker!