February 21, 2012
I just came back from two very stressful meetings, one after the other.
Nonetheless, I’m going to take a minute to give a special shout out to the one boy who’s a constant source amusement, exasperation and frustration. This boy never failed to make me feel both loved and needed. Even though he can’t talk in a way that I’d understand, somehow I still do; and he understands me too.
I have no idea what mischief you’ve been up to today, after waking up to see you happily rolling around on the floor (looking like a rug with legs and tiny paws) and after you escorted me to the door on my way to work, but I hope you didn’t give anybody a hard time during your special day.
Did you finish your breakfast on time? Did you remember to properly thank the person who served you the chicken I left to thaw?
I was supposed to call and check how you were doing, but as you know, Mommy has a crapload of things that she has to deal with at work. But that’s okay; I know that you’re pretty happy being left alone to inspect every corner of the house.
Did you take a nap under the stereo again? I told you that place is dirty. But it’s okay; I’ll give you a bath this weekend (even if you don’t really like it).
Don’t leave your toys lying around. Stop chasing after the mice. And neither should you play with the dirty laundry or other people’s shoes!
Atleast you never fail to poop/pee in your crate so I don’t have to worry about the mess I have to come home to. I still have no idea how you figured out how to do that. Such a smart little boy. That or awesome parenting from my part.
I left fresh water for you straight from the fridge. If the heat is becoming too uncomfortable, just do your thing: sit in front of the fan (like a little monkey) and watch TV. What tricks did you learn today from the afternoon soaps you watch? Remember: Mommy wants you to be her villainous little boy. Make me proud, kid.
Oops. I almost missed our street! Anyhow, lemme finish this so I can pay for my cab. I can imaging you’re already peering through the window to see if I’m at the gate.
So finally, lemme just say: Happy Birthday to my sweet (but bratty) little boy. I love you, kiddo.
PS: I’m sorry that I won’t have gifts for you this year; no clothes or shoes and/or weird contraptions that are utterly unnecessary for dogs. Seriously. If anything, I want you to be a dog and not turn you into a hairy little human who walks on four legs.
PPS: Your Daddy had better buy those cupcakes. We’ll share ‘em.