To Kylee - 1

There is another site that writes quarterly, monthly, updates directly to their child, and I thought the style was interesting so...

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Dear Kylee,

I never had any interest in bringing another dog into this world, but how can you not love one that is already here. Today you are two months and 7 days old.

We measured you merely nine days ago. You became a Morgan on 2/23/08. Against what your father said, I insisted you be measured again because I have been closely watching your legs and they are getting longer at the pace of a bullet.

Look how much you have grown! In nine damned days.

We are not giving you steriods, but I did pause long enough to approach the bag of food you are being fed to check. When I suggest your portions be controlled, your father glares at me as if I was trying to starve you concentration camp style. "She LIKES to eat!" he tells me.

You most certainly do and eagerly devour anything given to you with no hesitation, unlike your brother, who must gauge what he will actually be able to chew. You share that trait with your older sister.

You are a terror to your brother, and have aged him five years seemingly overnight. You do not understand that he doesn't want to play when you want to, and that biting, hopping and galloping makes him want to get away from you. He is quite used to the gentle way Delilah respected his wee size and how she delicately would let him have first dibs on everything and never hurt him, even when playing. You will learn to be nicer, we know you can't help yourself, even your big brother knows, but doesn't have to like you when you are full on attacking. He's old... be nice and don't get mad at us when we say that you had it coming because he retaliates.

You seem to want to learn the rules of the house, but then you act out angrilly. This morning you were bored and launched yourself into my face, mostly my nose, and attached those barbs of yours to my nose-stud and managed to pull hard enough to part me from a dead sleep into a whapping of dog. You flew several feet back from instinct as if shocked that it was attached to my face.

You love shoes. All shoes. Every shoe. Gimme shoe! I have photos of you laying on shoes of all makes, sizes, smells and gender. When you wake up you make a crazy little noise of a yawn that forgives the things you did earlier. It also prompts us to rush you outdoors as quickly as possible.

You know your name, and respond to it well. You don't always do what follows your name, but you are alert and perk to it in the way that makes it clear you are quite aware who you are.

Your paws are huge, and your rate of growth gives me pause because I don't trust you being 70 pounds and biting. I know you are an infant, and I am relying on every resource I can grab to get you to mind before that happens.

Your big sister is proud of you, and laughing at me.

Love,

Mama