We have a sign posted outside our front door:
Caution: Puppy Enter At Your Own Risk
Okay, we don't really have a sign but it's a damn good idea.
Peanut has become comfortable in our household. She's destroyed hundreds of dollars worth of soccer balls, swim goggles, toilet plungers and telephones.
She's tricked us by cooperating for a few days: turning away from tasty, two-ply, double rolls of Charmin, resisting the temptation to jump onto counters, and keeping herself from kidnapping sweet, young things from the fruit bowl only to leave their 1/2 eaten corpses under the couch to die.
She gets our guards down so we loosen the reins and then...she attacks.
Well, fool us once, Peanut, shame on you. Fool us twice, shame on...
everyone in my family except ME.
You see, people, I've had enough.
Enough of Peanut using our family and friends as spring boards and chew toys.
Of watching her push boxes, topple chairs, and leap over gates as she escapes full-proof restraining systems.
Of witnessing her fly over our couch like a chocolate gazelle and slide onto the coffee table like Tom Cruise in Risky Business.
I love you Peanut, but there ain't room in this house for the two of us.
You're just a puppy. This is isn't all your fault.
So, a message to my beloved family.
Shape up or Peanut ships the hell out.
I don't wanna do it. I'm hoping this will light a fire under your asses to ACTUALLY HELP WITH THE DOG LIKE YOU PROMISED.
Oh, you've forgotten those tranquil days of yore? The ones where you took Miss Greta for granted? Complaining about her lack of the fetching gene, her being a "lemon" lab who doesn't run or swim? You longed for a dog with pep, vigor, vitality - you wanted a puppy.
Well, you got what you wished for my lazy, little, loved ones and it ain't all soft fur and puppy-breath kisses, is it? Until now, I've been the one to bear the brunt of your chaotic canine craving but, as of today, I'm stepping aside.
From now on, you will feed her, brush her, train her and play fetch with her BEFORE she starts chewing vitamin bottles and capsizing Mommy's flower vases. You will all do this EVERY DAY (including you, my chronically, absentee husband), not just once in a while when you're feeling generous.
Remember, I was the person who didn't want to disturb the peace.
I was the person happy with just my Greta.
She and I understood each other.
We had a groove thing goin' on.
So, as much as I love Miss Peanut, and I do, it is up to the three of you lunkheads to get your acts together and do what it takes to care for her. And, no, that doesn't mean whining for me to clean up the pencil fragments or pry her out of your ice cream sundaes. It means handle it yourselves.
Leave me out of it.
Or else.
Consider yourselves warned.
Love,
Mom
