Dog’s Apology

Dear Owner:

I am sorry I bit your niece. I should’ve taken her grabbing my eyeball as good fun, because, if I look at it dispassionately, it was funny on several levels. Unfortunately, having my eye grabbed and pulled on is one of my “buttons”. I hope your niece is okay; but, I have to say, she didn’t put up much of a fight. Where’s that warrior-spirit that made humans our bosses in the first place? Oh, and if your brother didn’t want to get bitten, trying to kick me in the ribs was the wrong way to go about it…

You called me a “bad dog”, as if the whole good/bad thing has been worked out to the satisfaction of most philosophers; moreover, you told me to go lay down. Lying down is equivalent to sloth and it is one of the seven deadly sins. So, to punish MY evil, you had me do something that would ensure me a place in Hell. You don’t need a veterinarian to figure out that is pretty sick. At least you didn’t tell me to exile myself to that prison you like to call my “crate”. Maybe if I do something you really hate, you could just tell me to bite myself.

And, really what do I do that’s so bad? I just get into the trash a little; but, how can a species of animal that eats cow shit and swims in drainage ditches comprehend the concept of “garbage”? You obviously didn’t want those egg shells and butcher paper and I can respect that. But, what you’re telling me is, despite the fact that I wanted them, you were going to send them to a landfill. If I’m man’s best friend, I’m pretty sure you carpet-bomb your enemies.

And, while I’m venting, let’s talk about hats. If we are going to randomly designate a day as my birthday, then why do the most irritating thing imaginable and put a hat on me? I think I speak for all dogs when I say we never feel as secure as we do when we have a cheap piece of elastic around our head and throat. I hope you didn’t think it was a style issue. And, speaking of birthdays, how ’bout next birthday forget the cake and just get me some eggshells and butcher paper?

I think we can work this out. I DO try. I only defecate in the yard; or, if you won’t wake up, in an isolated corner of the house; one you won’t find for a few weeks. I won’t give my life to save yours, but I will run for help should you fall down a well. I feel that we have a good relationship. Maybe I should be a little more understanding with your family but I don’t have a lot of experience with that, considering my mother raised me in a cardboard carton and ate two of my siblings.

But, every day and in every way, I’m getting better and better.