Getting Schooled

Look at that face. So sweet. So innocent. So much like a cuddly little teddy bear.

Don't be fooled. Here is what he is really thinking:

"Mother, I know you think it's perfectly fine to keep me locked up in this crate for hours at a time while you're at work. You reason to yourself that I must be happy because the crate backs to a dog door that allows me to let myself out into the spacious dog run, where I can frolic and play to my heart's content. Not to mention bark like crazy, which provides you with glorious payback to the neighbors on that side who have kept you awake multiple nights every summer for the past 7 years with their hard-party'in college kids screaming and doing cannonballs into their pool. At midnight. Or later.

But Mother, dear Mother, really. You must learn. How can I show you that this is not what my heart truly desires?

I know. I can start by making you think I'm such a good boy and quick learner by going to the bathroom in the dog run as opposed to my crate. I will continue to do that, don't worry. However, on Tuesday through Thursday of this week I decided to unload my bowels at the exact spot of concrete where my feet land outside the doggie door. By the time you returned from work, I've been able to completely coat my paws and fur with crap, then tracked it throughout my crate, in which you so lovingly placed a blanket and all my chew toys. Which are all now tinged brown. Spending time each evening hosing down the dog run, washing my blanket and toys, and taking a soapy sponge to my crate is exactly what you have needed. I just want you to think of nothing but me when you get home, you see.

And today. Oh, what a banner day. My best one yet. I managed not to poop anywhere near the doggie door. So there was no mess in my crate when you got home this afternoon. Cause for celebration, you say? Not so fast. I pulled a real Houdini on you. Managed to sandwich myself in the 6-inch space between the end of my crate and the doggie door, then wiggled all the way behind your nightstand until I was free, home free. Unfortunately, you had closed your bedroom door so I couldn't explore the entire house. But boy, did I have fun in your bedroom and bathroom for a couple of hours. All those fine washables hanging from the drying rack near your bed? Yumm-eee. And the shower mat, so plush and absorbent? I tried, I really did, but simply couldn't resist relieving myself on it. Both #1 and #2. I honestly felt that after 3 consecutive days, you would be disappointed if you didn't have to throw something in the washing machine tonight.

Now I know you've got that fancy schmancy Ivy League college education, Mama, but really, who's the smart one here? Training you is so much fun, it really is. Can't wait for tomorrow.

Love Always,
Mojo"