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An Open Letter To My Miniature Schnauzer, Lacey

Dearest Sugarbutt,

I know that in the past I've been very strict with locking you in your kennel, but there were a few times that I had forgotten to actually lock its door and I came home eight hours later to find you still sleeping in it.

This led me to believe that maybe, at your stable age of five years, maybe you were ready for the responsibility of sleeping on the couch. Or on the bed. Or on the other couch. Or on the floor in a sun beam.

And it's been going well, don't you think? Sometimes you forget that there's even an entire apartment to roam, or a sheerly-curtained window to look out, or neighbors who have the darndest nerve to come home and leave again requiring you give them what-for. Sometimes you forget and sleep in your kennel all day, only emerging with bead-head and a yawn when I come home from work.

I'm glad you've enjoyed it, because that privilege?
Has been revoked.

Seriously, I don't know what your beef is. You've been so emo these last few months, so depressed and tearful and wuh-lah so sad for the spoiled puppy.

Has the springtime weather turned you into a teenager that yells and slam doors and screams about never having been born? Or was the new bone I bought you from the Fancy Pet Store yesterday filled with demons?

Because, honestly? I'd rather have a sad emo you-don't-understand-me dog than a raging wish-you-would-die-you-feeble-human demon dog.

Whatever has pissed you off, Little Princess, is of no consequence. From now on, you will be locked into your wee kennel for the entire day. No toys, no bones, no couches.

Maybe next time you'll think a little harder about urinating on the bed.

Love,
"Don't Forget Who's Alpha" Valette