Letter To My Dog

Dear Beez,

I remember when your name was “Steve.”  That was before Daniel and Annabel decided your name would now be “Beez.”  Sorry about that.  You’ve taken it very well and I appreciate you answering to BOTH names now.

I remember when you were our only “child.”  I remember picking you up and bringing you home and sleeping by your crate all night long because you were scared.  I remember being so nervous and anxious to go to work and leave you home alone all day.  I kept wondering what you were doing and what piece of furniture you were scratching up.

I remember buying you little scarves, T-shirts and fleece jackets.  We even custom ordered you a Redskins jersey with your name on it.  I remember going to PetSmart to get you a photo with Santa.  We framed it and hung it on the Christmas tree.

I remember taking you to puppy school and obedience classes.  Mark would take you to the dog park or the lake almost every day.  We spent a day running and playing at Great Falls.  We would take you for car rides so you could hang your head out of the window and enjoy the wind.

When we went out of town for the weekend, we would be sure you were in a five star “pet resort.”  We would look at the doggie cam every hour to make sure you were okay.  We would all sing in the car when we picked you up.

I remember buying you special homemade dog treats and celebrating your birthday each year.

Then we had actual children.

Now there are days I forget you are here.

There are days I wish you weren’t here because you jump on Annabel or you try to grab Daniel’s lunch.

We don’t buy you special treats.  Sometimes I don’t remember to fill your food bowl in the morning until you circle around my feet.

You don’t have any new clothes or new toys.  You’ve had the same ball for a couple years now.  And you seem fine with it.

The lakes and dog parks have been replaced with quick ball throws in the backyard after dinner so you can get some exercise and not drive us crazy.

Most days I put you in the bedroom so I can play with the kids.   You used to be “top of the heap.”  Now you are the lowest rung on the family ladder.

But at the end of the day, there you are. Fast asleep on the chenille blanket at the end of our king bed.  And if you weren’t there, I would miss you.

You’re a good dog Beez.  And I don’t say it enough.

Love,

Your Mama

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For more information about pets and wellness, visit my friends at Positive Health Wellness!

Comments

  1. What a touching letter. I’m sure “beez” forgives you.

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