A Puppy’s Requests

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Dear Evangeline,

Our new puppy, Ripley, wants to have some words with you. As the matriarch of the household, I feel it is my responsibility to speak for her. There are five things, specifically, that Ripley would like to address:

1. I’m having a bit of trouble understanding why you can tear apart my toys and eat MY food, but you kick me in gut if you see me helping you get rid of your broccoli before mom and dad can see, or why you yank my ears if you see me eating your crayons. You only use the red and yellow crayons anyway, so what’s the harm if I take the blue and green crayons as a wholesome mid-morning snack. You need to learn how to share, kid. Besides, it’s really hard for me to tell the difference between your stuffed “sock monkey” and that overcooked hot dog you’re snacking on.

Ripley & Eva

Ripley & Eva

2. Yes, yes, yes. I know. I pee on your rug. In fact, I pee on your rug a lot. But I’d really appreciate it if you would stop telling everyone that I “do potty” in the house. If you haven’t picked up on this yet, I am potty trained, I just like to pee on your rug. And I may as well just spell it out for you since you don’t seem to be catching my drift: I pee on your rug because you piss me off.

3. Now, I know you’re only two and all and you haven’t quite picked up the lingo of your species as quickly as I’ve learned how to bark my brains out, but I would really appreciate it if you would stop pronouncing my name totally and utterly ridiculously. It’s RIP- LEY. R. I. P. L. E. Y. There is NO “A” in my name. It is not “RIPPPPPPP-AAAAAA-LAAAAAY!!!!” I get it, ┬áhumans are slow learners, but let’s just put in a little more effort.

4. Ok, this one is something that is really starting to peeve┬áme. You know how mom and dad tell you that I’m “kissing” you when I lick and slobber all over your face? Well, the opposite is not true. When YOU lick MY face, it is not a kiss. It is just downright gross.

5. This last one should just stand as a warning. As of last week, we were exactly the same weight: 32 fit and fun pounds. But mom and dad rescued me from a shelter and they don’t have the slightest clue how big I am going to be. But judging by my gigantic paws and the fact that I still have my puppy teeth, I am sure of one thing: very soon I will weigh a helluva lot more than you. Act accordingly.

I love you, kid. I really, really do. But there are just a few things we need to work on, else mama is bound to lose her mind. Parents magazine promised her that bringing me home was a good idea, but you’re making me look bad.

With Hope,

Ripley Pearce

 

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