Canine Correspondence

Dear Mom,

I hope you don't mind me calling you that. We both know you aren't really my mom but I haven't seen mine in almost two years so I barely remember her. I don't want to call you Karabeth because everyone knows that isn't your real name any more than mine is Buster Brown. I've heard you call me one of your granddogs but we both know that isn't true either so I'm not going to call you Gram. I think of myself as more like a pack co-leader with Pastor Dad and you, maybe the head co-leader, like Pastor Dad is the head pastor with two co-pastors working with him. Everyone else in the house calls you mom so that is what I've chosen to call you, too. I think we're clear.

As someone who sits here in this comfortable executive's chair each day watching you write your blog posts I felt it was time for me to chime in with my own two cents. Before I really begin I'd like to suggest that you get your own chair as I am mighty tired of sharing mine. One of those metal folding chairs should do you nicely. I'm not about to give up this padded leather one but it's getting a little crowded having both of us in it at the same time.

That's not really why I wanted to write you this letter, though. Actually, I have several reasons for doing so.

First, I'd like to make a progress report of my work with the Bear. I'm doing the best I can to help you train him. Perhaps it won't be much longer until he learns that he can't leave bags of trash sitting on the kitchen floor waiting to be taken out. I really think you yelling at him combined with my object lessons of breaking the bag and carrying all kinds of gross things all over the house might eventually do the trick.

He is also doing somewhat better at putting his shoes and socks away. I've lost count of how many pairs I've eaten but since he is growing so fast these days I don't think he would've worn them for much longer anyway.

He is also getting better at staying in bed at night. I do my best to keep him there by laying all of my 60 lbs. on top of him. I like that so much better than sleeping in the crate. If perchance he does go downstairs late after you're asleep I go, too, to keep an eye on him. No need to worry. He's in good hands, er, paws.

I don't think closing the baby gate at the head of the stairway is doing much good these days so you can probably dispense with it until the next grandchild needs the protection. The Bear obviously knows how to open it and since I just avoid it altogether by coming through the banister it doesn't seem like it is doing the job of keeping anyone up or down.

My second reason for writing was to thank you personally for some of the changes you've made. I really like the fact that all the pantry food was moved from the upper wall cabinets where the mice were getting into it (I know that touching the dead one in there freaked you out!) down to the bottom island cabinet where I can pry it open and help myself to the cereal and tortilla chips. If you could just teach me how to open the refrigerator so I could get my own milk and salsa I'd be all set, but it's okay if you don't. I'll eat the stuff dry and plain if necessary.

I also like the new kitchen trash can you bought. I'm sorry that I lost the lid to the old one but it was worth it just so you could buy this new one that has the foot lever. I haven't figured out how that lever works yet but I have managed to devise my own method for opening it. The mental stimulation was good for me.

Also, thanks for changing winter coats mid-season to that red wool one instead of that brown one you wore that looked suspiciously like it was made from one of my 6 siblings. I know you said that it wasn't but even so I'm one of those females who doesn't like others being identically dressed. You have options. I obviously don't.

My third reason for writing is to offer you an apology. I didn't know it was going to upset you so badly the other day when I pulled that metal can full of ground beef grease out of the trash can, carried it into the living room, and splashed some of it on your area rug. I did my best to clean up the spill. I've always thought that rug was just my own big place mat anyway.

I also want to apologize for running away yesterday to play with those two mean boxers down the road. I heard you calling me but I was busy and thought you should wait until I was done. You were smart not to come into their yard after me, though. I know they have an invisible fence but no telling if you could've made it back across before one of them tore into you. And it would've presented me with a terrible dilemma. Would I fight to protect you or would I let you get the punishment I thought you deserved for interrupting our play? Good thing we didn't need to find out. One lesson I learned was that I'll need to be more careful that the end of my leash doesn't cross the property line to the point where you can grab the end of it. I didn't much like having my fun interrupted like a preschooler who has just been told to pick up her toys and sent to bed. But still, I'm offering an apology in the hopes it gets me out of the doghouse.

I think that's it for now. I'll let you know if anything else comes to mind.

Your canine cohort,

Pepper