Sarah Allen
Yay! I love you!
I love the smell of your breath in the morning!
I love the sound you make walking on the squeaky stairs!
Squeaky! Yay! I love my squeaky!
I love that you’re pouring kibble in my bowl!
Yummy!
I love the chew marks on my bowl!
I love my rawhide that’s broken in half
And the fresh one on top of the washer
Where I can stare at it
All day long!
I love the taste of toilet bowl water
Because it almost tastes like you!
Love, love, LOVE!!!
the dog
!
Dear Sirs:
I am sorry to say my orders have not been followed.
Perhaps I was not clear that from the hours of 11–3 p.m., I am to be left
Undisturbed. I will permit some level of frolic only outside those hours.
Another matter: you can imagine my horror when, on Tuesday last, upon leaping
Up to the living room windowsill, which, as you are no doubt aware,
Is my spot, I was confronted by a horrid collection of those plastic things
The smallish one calls Legos. It made my nap extraordinarily uncomfortable.
I’m sure this will be addressed in the future,
As will the unappetizing temperature of my dish.
Oh, one more thing.
Could you please do something about that obnoxious canine?
He was drinking out of the toilet again.
From Her Majesty,
The Cat