Earlier this week, I had to take the two brother German Shepherds–Otto and Gunther–to the vet to be neutered. They are over eleven months old and we wanted to take care of it before Christmas. Gunther weighed in at 95 pounds. Otto weighed in at a hefty 105 pounds.
The events of this day garnered me a letter of apology from Otto:
First of all, I love you. Can I have a cookie? Okay, okay. Just joking. I know how you don’t want me to eat a lot of cookies because I’m big-boned. I just thought I’d start this apology letter out with some levity so you wouldn’t stay mad at me.
When you asked me to get into the car, I knew we were either going to dog training or to that guy who keeps putting sharp objects in my legs. I didn’t want to go, so I gave you a hard time. Gunther was already in the car, goading me on; typical bastard brother. He thinks he’s so worthy because he hopped right into the back seat of your car and I didn’t.
Instead, I sat by the fence wanting to go back into the house. After you pulled me by the collar, I just decided to resist completely. I acted like those people I see on the big screen in our living room–I laid down on the ground and became dead weight. I stiff-armed you and protested my desire to just stay where I was. I HAVE RIGHTS TOO!
Gunther kept saying, “C’mon bro! Just hop in! I want to stick my head out the window!”
I really didn’t think you’d be able to get my big ass into the car with my dead weight-like resistance, but you managed.
Whoops. This is an apology letter, isn’t it? Sorry about that.
So, I’m sorry about being such a jerk getting into the car, okay? I’m also sorry about something else.
You know what it is–don’t make me say it.
Jesus. I keep forgetting this is an apology letter and I can’t cower into a corner giving you my sad look and pitiful eyes.
After that guy drugged me and made my balls feel really, really sore, I got to see you again, which made me and my bro really happy! We were going home!
WE WERE GOING HOME!
My balls really hurt bad, but I was looking forward to laying down and licking them until the pain went away, but then I saw it–the car.
Daddy was with you this time, which didn’t help much because of what happened, and I’m really sorry for what I did. I just HATE getting into the car.
I don’t know–I can’t explain it. But, when you pulled me on my lead to get toward the car door, I just yanked myself out of my collar and started making a run for it…toward the street.
Now, in my defense, I didn’t know it was rush hour. I didn’t know that it was considered night time, and I also didn’t realize that the street I was running toward was the busiest street in town. I heard you yell for me and, just for the record, I did stop momentarily to turn toward you. But, when you came toward me again, I just panicked.
You kept yelling at me to stop. I knew this–but I ran into the street. It was nice of that car to see me and stop. The other car coming from the other direction almost hit me and blew out this loud noise. Asshole.
I saw you cross the street and were yelling for me, but I didn’t want to go into the car.
I HATE THE CAR.
I started running up the sidewalk when I heard you crying. I saw you kneeling on the sidewalk calling my name, and that’s when I knew I had to come back to you.
You were hurt! My mommy was hurt!
You tricked me.
But, you seemed really happy to see me. Daddy decided to walk me home which was fine by me because as you know…
I HATE THE CAR.
So, I’m super sorry that I caused your near heart attack and that you almost peed your pants. I don’t understand why you wear pants. Can’t you just pee on the lawn like the rest of us?
And, I know you keep telling me to quit licking myself. You even put this stuff on me to stop licking my balls. I hate the taste, but sometimes I just can’t stand the itching!
What did that guy do to me, anyway?
Why am I barking at a higher pitch? Does my butt look bigger now because of what he did?
I feel like I need botox and whole box of Oreos. Maybe we can watch soap operas together…
WTF is wrong with me?????
Can I have a cookie now?