An Open Letter from the Dogs

Dear Owners,

dogs and babies

Is that bacon?

Listen, we’ve got to talk. What gives? You brought home another one of those little mini-humans and, once again, nobody even asked us. We have some grievances and our frustrations have been building up for a while, so we thought it was finally time to bring these things to your attention.

First and foremost, our names are Dexter and Libby. Get it right. It’s not Asshole, Little Shit, Fucker, or Douche Bag. You gave us the names, is it really that hard to remember them?

And yes, we bark. We’re dogs – that’s kind of what you signed up for. If you don’t want me to bark at the sink, maybe you should wash the dishes more than once a week. I mean, there’s food remnants stuck on those plates. And it smells so good. Like cheese and bacon. Mmmm, bacon…..

What were we talking about again?

Oh yeah, food. It’d be nice if we didn’t have to dig at the food dish for 45 damn minutes before you come and fill it. I mean, if you’re gonna yell at that kid for slipping us table scraps from his high chair, you could at least get off your lazy ass and give us some of this other crap you call “dog food.” Or I will – I repeat, I WILL – flip the water dish over again. Deal with it. And if that doesn’t work, damn right I will see what you’ve got in that there trash can. I will tear.shit.up to get to that Styrofoam with the hamburger meat juice on it if it is the last thing I do. Again, deal with it or take out the damn trash every once in a while.

It’s also unnecessary to keep reminding us that we stink. Yes, we are aware -we roll in our own shit out in the back yard. It’s called a bath, ever heard of it? We don’t have opposable thumbs so this ball is kind of in your court. These anal glands aren’t going to express themselves, you know. Until they do, then you’ll really be sorry.

Speaking of smelly things, we don’t understand why we get kicked out of the room every time we pass gas. I mean, when that baby farts you act like she just won an Olympic gold medal. What the literal fuck? I make good stinkies too, how about giving a little credit where credit is due.

While we’re talking about the kids, let’s talk about this word, “gentle.” Because I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but, that 2 year old, he’s just not getting it. Our tails are not meant to be pulled, our heads not meant to be slapped. We are not horses – it is NOT funny to let them ride us around the living room. Yes, the kid knows where my eye is – but he doesn’t need to poke it out in order to show you. And, last we checked, this couch is not a trampoline. If we are sleeping on it, we’d appreciate a little respect and consideration please. Reign that shit in.

Dog in child walker.

This is NOT cool.

Also, if you could try buying the kid some toys that don’t look just like our toys, maybe we wouldn’t rip the stuffing out of his Mickey Mouse. Is it our fault that we haven’t seen a new chew toy or a bone in 2 years? I think not. It’s called fetch. And, newsflash, your kid sucks at it. Because it involves THROWING the actual toy. Not hitting us over the head with it repeatedly, capisce?

Alright, well, we’ve got to get going now because we heard the UPS man might be coming today so we have to prepare to get all up in his shit. But if you could address these issues as soon as possible, we would appreciate it. Also, we know when you say “I hate those damn dogs,” you still really mean “I love those damn dogs.” Because, you know, we still love you too.


The Family Dogs

P.S. We also wouldn’t mind a walk once in a while. Not too often though – we’re pretty lazy.


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