Dear Clark,
In exchange for letting you:
- Take over the beige leather chair in the family room
- Sleep in bed with Steve and I each night
- Live after eating an MP3 player, a silk shantung dress shoe and the pelts of a coyote and fox
- Raid the pantry of all bread items
- Shed all over the damn place
- Run up several thousand dollars worth of veterinary bills
I kindly request that you return to using the wooded area in the backyard to relieve yourself. Your gallons of pee are killing the grass, and I pay far too much for chemical assistance to let you destroy the lawn that is my pride and joy. Additionally, I don't want to walk out the front door one more time and be assaulted by the "fragrance" of your steaming solid waste. Why must you do this right next to the front walk? I still lack the iron stomach to deal with the smell. By now, you must have noticed how I get dry heaves when I come within three yards of your deposits.
In anticipation of your cooperation, I promise to:
- Provide you with a bright tennis ball that you will persistently toss onto my lap as I attempt to watch television
- Make sure that your water bowl is always full
- See that your favorite chair remains unobstructed
- Pay for your very expensive cataract surgery so that you will stop bumping into furniture
Thank you,
The Woman Who Owns You
