Thursday, December 21, 2006

Dear Fat Man in Red Suit

I don't find this in the least amusing.

Last night, Max, the Demon Dog, peed on my nutcracker sitting in front of the Christmas tree last night. Not only that, he tried denying it.

I knew it was him because Cassie, my female cocker, and Skylar, my shelter who is also a girl, are perfect little fur babies, and Max, well, Max is Max, and there's no changing him.

But, what I found less amusing was something he had obviously written on MY computer while I was asleep....

Dear Fat Man in Red Suit:

I'm beginning to feel a little suspicious.

There was a time in my past, in fact, quite a few times, when I saw this same dang tree in the corner of the living room. It's not hard to miss because those dang lights blind you everytime you come in here.
And there are wrapped boxes underneath.

Now, why I'm suspicious is because the last few times I've seen the same scenario, I am always surprised that some of them are meant for me. I'm surprised because one day they're not there and the next day, they are.
Well, that's the way it's been anyway.

Now, on the few times there were boxes for me, they were cool as all get out to unwrap because not only was I having a kickin' time opening them, but another cool as all get out new stuffed squeeky toy was inside. Wait...I think one was a set of balls, but most of them were these squeeky toys.

Now, everyone knows how much I live for these things. Dad buys them for me once in awhile, and then it's like a challenge to see if I can get the squeek outta them.


Dog, is it fun.


But, this year, I see boxes and boxes, but none are shaped like squeeky things. Or balls.


And this has me suspicious.


And then I go and read this dang Christmas story about how you better be good, better be nice, or Santa Claus won't come, or some stupid stuff these humans call entertainment, but it has me to thinking.


I peed on Mom's stupid nutcracker last night.

Listen, dude, it was standing in front of this stupid tree which everyone knows is a target for a urinary pit stop, and since the stupid nutcracker was in the way, I peed on it.
I figured I was okay because how could they tell it was mine, you know? I have 2 sisters; heck, they could have done it. Dig?

But, this morning, all h e double l broke out. How did she know it was me????


So, I'm wondering something.


It's four days before that fat man in the red suit comes and I sure as heck don't want to screw things up, so I'm sending this letter out over the Internet in the hopes he's on here, and I can be redeemed. And it goes...


Dear Fat Man in Red Suit:

I know you're only human (sorry about that misfortune), but I need to clarify a few things.

You gotta give a dog a break sometimes.

When you are used to emptying your bladder on God's things he put outside, and then someone brings that thing inside, how are you to know it can't be used? Shouldn't there be a "NO WETTING" sign hanging around or something? I really don't think this is my fault.


Another thing that really gets my fur all ruffled is why can't the humans take us poor misfortunate pooches out to do their business BEFORE they go to bed? Do they think that just because we're DOGS we can hold it longer than they can?


I think I have a solution if you want to hear, Fat Man in Red Suit....


What I think you need to do is take pity on those with four paws and send them lots of squeeky toys in the place of those foolish things like slippers that massage your feet. Come on now...these humans wouldn't know work if you hit'em in the head with it, so those feet don't need massaging.


And leave balls instead of those stupid DVD movies you like to place in their stocking. Do you realize you are contributing to obesity? All these people do, if they're not sitting around on the computer watching their back sides spread, they're lounging out on the sofa stuffing themselves with junk food, and watching movies.


Oh, one more thing.
Please, they do not need anything to read. All those books you bring don't get read because they are having too much fun doing other fat-inducing things like torturing the kids by not letting them play with their own Christmas video games as they sit there for hours in front of the TV.

I'm hoping this letter will make you realize a few things, and that's that dogs have feelings, too.


So, while the humans are torturing us with putting tape all over our mouths and thinking it's funny, or taking my floppy ears and pulling it up with a scrunchie thing and making me look like a girl, I hope you see who is being good and who is being nice.


I hope this letter gets to you, Fat Man in Red Suit. I know you sure as heck wouldn't want me to slip a telepathic message to Rudolf and your crew of happy sleigh-pullers and tell them what you've been doing all these years to one of their almost kind.

Oh, Fat Man in Red Suit...be easy on Vixen. The last I heard she was going to enlist you in some kind of Jenny Craig program.


Sincerely,


Max

8 comments:

  1. Well, it is a cat in my house rather than a dog and of course they love to bat the tree ornaments around and sometimes even climb the tree. She will probably get something under the tree for her this time too. I will spend the day at Pat's with her two cats but will sneak off to bring something to Huggy, too.

    Merry Christmas to you and your family.

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  2. Awww...Dick, Merry Christmas to you, too!

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  3. At lest Max didn't try and eat the nutcracker. My pug Lucy will eat anything wood.

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  4. This is priceless! Max has some good points. Merry Christmas, Dorothy!

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  5. Autumn...I love pugs! I've never owned one, but they are sooooo cute!

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  6. MISS C!!!! How the heck are you???? Yeah, Max is a character all right. One day he's going to find himself out in the dog house PERMANENTLY. Have a Merry Christmas!

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  7. Doing my last round of blogs before yuletide descends.

    Merry Christmas, my friend.

    :o)

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  8. Awww...Merry Christmas to you, too, M.E.! I'll be doing the final rounds tonight wishing everyone a Merry Christmas...I'll be stopping off at your blog house in a few...keep it real, my friend. ;o)

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