I have nothing to update about. At least nothing suitable for the general public. Poor me.
Dear Charlie,
You know I love you very much, and the day I got you was probably the best day of my life. But I have some things that I would like to say to you.
First of all, when you were brought to me, you were an anorexic little puppy that weighed about one third of what you weigh now. And believe me, it was a lot of fun, not to mention really cute, when you decided to jump on my chest and slobber all over my face when I was lying down. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but human chests can only take so much weight until it doesn’t feel all that pleasant anymore, and you passed that weight about two weeks after you got here. So I kindly ask you to refrain from breaking my ribcage while I’m innocently asleep in my bed.
I have to admit that you are a really good dog, and pat myself on the back for that fact. Sure, you’ve had several obnoxious teenager phases, which is quite remarkable considering you haven’t even reached your teenager months yet. But you’re doing well and you know how to behave when we’re alone. And that’s the watchword, alone. Because as soon as I take you somewhere or someone visits us, you start acting like Homer Simpson on speed, and that’s embarrassing for both of us. Furthermore, nobody will ever believe me when I tell them that you are perfectly well-behaved at home. And you do know who is responsible for a dog’s behavior, right? Yes, thought so. You reflect on me, son!
Last but not least, you have a penis that would make David Beckham jealous. But don’t use it to pleasure my pillow. That’s not what pillows or penises are there for.
Love,
Mommy