How Is This My Fault?

Dear Mom and Dad,

Let me start with this:

I hear what you have been saying about me and my sister Dottie. You talk about me with disdain and open frustration as if we're not right here listening to you. It's very demeaning.

Next, I'd like to set the record straight on several topics of discussion.

One:

I am the first child in this family. If you wanted me to believe I was just a pet, you should have treated me as such from the beginning. But instead, YOU coddled me and babied me and taught me to think I'm the most important thing in your life. If I act spoiled sometimes, it's on YOU, not me.

Two:

I use the floor as my own personal bathroom. So does Dottie. This is non-negotiable, and nothing can change it. It will be much more peaceful if you come to terms with this. Your choices are:

a) Leave us to do what we want while you are gone.

b) Lock us in a kennel. We've proven before that this is disastrous. You get home to poop-smeared dogs and kennel every time. Learn this already!

c) Lock us in the back yard. Also worth learning: you'll arrive home to mud-covered dogs, a dug up back yard, and us sitting on your front porch when you arrive home.

It should be said here that again, this is not on us. YOU are the one who chooses to leave us in the first place. Make sure you understand where the fault lies here.

Three:

Basic 'human' food rules: If it is on the short table, it's mine. If it is in a child's hand, it's mine. If it is on the dinner table and you aren't home, it's mine.

Therefore, it should come as no surprise when you arrive home to find my paw prints on the chair and a cake half-eaten. If you were supposed to deliver it in an hour and worked on it for a whole day... not my fault. You didn't want it eaten? Don't leave it out!

And a side note on this: I don't get it when you popped me after I stole Avery's pb&j a few hours later. What? This is what I do. I'm not sure I understand where your anger issues come from.

Listen. I am a gem. If you don't get that and can't start appreciating me for who I am, then Aunt Sandie says she'd be happy to take me back. And I'd probably be happier there anyways. She loves me for who I am.

CLICK HERE FOR PICTURES OF THE WEEK (including my handiwork)

Cordially,

The Sadly Misunderstood Oscar Mayer