There is another site that writes quarterly, monthly, updates directly to their child, and I thought the style was interesting so...
----
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
Here is Kylee watching the Jonestown documentary with me. She is as baffled and upset as I am. Why Jim, why. I don't know how to answer her question, no matter the sweet eyes that don't understand. I would like to keep her innocent a bit longer.
-DM
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 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.
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.
We had company today, to rid the garage of.... all the shit that was in there. 3 dryers, one treadmill, a rowing machine, a stair master and more at shit than I could account for,
Might have to look close.... there is a gator on his lap.
Mama and kiddles.
Kylee likes shoes and often sleeps this way. We don't know why. She is actually asleep in this shot, in heaven I suppose as her world goes.
So we cleaned the garage today.... I will post on my main site the struggle it was but holy shit... we see floor again! All that remains are my halloween needs and christmas box. While cleaning I not only stepped in Kylee whoops-s, but damned near took a fall slipping on one particular pile of fun.
Being my known most prized item, I tried not to skin her and wear her for warmth tomorrow as payback. Kyles is extremely fond of food, as puppies are apt to be, she cannot stop herself, especially when Daddy yells "who wants a treat?"
Shit even I come running, who doesn't want a treat? Hell man, whatcha got, is there enough for three?
Kylee is also a covert agent. At night she blends into almost every substance and becomes an object to either trip over or search for. I have asked "why must you be so dark?" and she retorts "look in the mirror Mama and ask yourself a similar question."
Mama is sorry for what she said Kylee, but you just are such a handful that I really wasn't ready for on my personal level of being ok, but that isn't your fault. You have so much personality on you, and you'll be damned if anyone is going to curb it and that frustates me. That's all it is, bear with me and I'll do my best to help you gently along the path of learning.
Kylee also has become a known theif. I often am found wandering the house with one shoe looking to one of her stockpile areas. She has two that we have discovered, quite by accident. One in the master closet, where we located Dad's pipe, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter (she IS a Morgan after all) a roll of toilet paper and a pile of poops, that were at least consistant in location.