Letter To My Owner
Dear owner,
Lets get one thing straight: As a species with no thumbs, writing this letter was a struggle. Unfortunately, the only thing I can hold a pen with is my mouth or my anus, and since I abide by the little known Mormon rule of “a pen and a mouth shalt never meet”, I was left with one choice. After pages and pages of incoherent scribbling and a strange craving for a cigarette, I ditched the ballpoint, broke the piggy bank and hired someone. The point I’m trying to make here is that this was hard so if I can have your undivided attention then I won’t piss in your slippers tonight while you go through the motions* with Martha**.
I have a few things I want to get off my chest and I figure now is as good a time as any to readjust our relationship. First off, stop blaming your flatulence on me. It’s not funny and no one buys it. Invest in some Beano or stop eating cabbage. Either way you need to see a doctor. Or, on second thought, maybe even a priest. Something evil has died inside of you and it appears the ghost is trying to get out. Get help.
Another thing: I used to like it when you scratched my belly, but now you’re lingering just a little too long around my nipples. It’s inappropriate and the neighbors are starting to talk. Get a job, mow the lawn, rediscover silly putty… do something. Just put a hold on the whole “best” friend thing, you hear? It’s sick. I’m your pet, not your ‘special’ companion, so stop it.
Next, when I say I have to go outside for a walk I mean now. My bladder isn’t as big as yours, so show a little mercy. If you make me wait any longer then I will explode all over your polyester pants like there’s no tomorrow. Get off your fat ass and take me for a walk. It’ll do you good. What do I have to do to get some attention around here, tape a beer to my forehead?
Finally, when I lick your face, it’s not because I love you. I’m trying to infect you with some of the germs I picked up in the basement toilet. That’s right, I said toilet. That’s what I drink from now because you’re too lazy to fill a bowl with tap water. Please make the effort. Unless you’re interested in acquiring a case of dog herpes, wise up and nourish me right.
Thanks for taking the time to read this. You can go back to watching Wheel of Fortune now.
Your dog,
Bentley
*That thing you refer to as doggie-style is an embarrassment to all canines so stop it. You’re not even close.
** Rubber doll
Comments (8)
Bentley, your letter is a thorough embarrassment. It is filled with salacious innuendo, crude and obscene allusions, and vulgar toilet sophistry. “Pets” who grovel, and fawn on their “owners”, and then level accusations of inappropriate intimacy, are at the very nadir of the Animal World, and are a humiliation to the rest of us. This is why I won’t converse with dogs.
Bentley, you badly need to acquire some decent qualities, preferably by seeking intensive therapeutic guidance from a respected neighborhood feline. I urge you to seek such therapy while there yet may be time to reshape your persona.
First it’s some cat:
http://an-in.com/animatorial/view/LettertotheBerkowitzes/
Then some rabbit:
http://an-in.com/animatorial/view/an_open_letter_to_rabbits_concerning_easter/
Now it’s dog. You guys write a lot of letters on this site.
And now it’s some alligator (crocodile?)! Mr. Phinsler, that letter of Bentley’s is just shameful. Shameful. If I weren’t a respectable feline, I would hide under a sofa.
Hey Crystal,
Sounds like someone hasn’t been “petted” in awhile. Why not grab a box of catnip and give me a call. I can show you how to loosen up and let the hair balls fly (if you know what I mean).
Bentley
Hey Phinsler,
You can come too.
Someone’s gotta hold the camera.
Bentley
Bentley, are you inquiring about therapeutic guidance? I happen to be a Licensed Canine Therapist, and I have a slot open on my calendar for next Wednesday Aug. 20 at 2 PM. Please be on time, and bring your own hairballs*.
*You can bring Mr. Phinsler along if you wish.
Slot open? Why Crystal… you are one naughty little Kitty. See you on Wednesday.
Chump, there you go thinking more of those salacious thoughts. I don’t do “other” therapy. however, but I can recommend a guy named “Phinsler” who will swallow all of your problems.