Dear Kylee,
Today you go in for the removal of your female bits. I hope you don’t think that we are not considerate of this decision, and later resent us for it. I could sit you down and tell you that if I was asked to have my bits removed, I would happily comply but I’m not sure you would understand that much, as you haven’t lived with yours for as long as I have. Trust me, those parts will begin to complain and turn you into a crazed ball of brown, begging to be killed. You will start to lie and claim you were never THAT bad, when you were. It’s for the best.
Your Dad has not been ok with this decision for a long time and he is extremely worried. I’m a bit more calm about it, but anxiety is as catchy as lice, so it’s crawled onto me times two since I’m already one weird coincidence from a neurotic meltdown at any given point.
Let’s think about who you are since the last Mama update. You are … sweet. We often continue to compare you to your big sister, and there are some distinct similarities – like you both have 4 legs and enjoy a meal. You do however sleep where she does, tear up the couch like she does, and make no apologies like she is apt to do, in fact you appear to not know the couch is not a bed. The difference there is that you actually care if those things upset us. Delilah is nice when she wants to be, you are a peapod by your nature and are still learning the rules that it’s not a free for all here. Oh those innocent eyes, and I believe them. Most of the time…..
When the shower fires up you bolt into the bathroom as though you were late to the party, but had an invitation all the same and got stuck in bad traffic. If we don’t leave the shower door open a little you find a way to open it and you walk right in and sit down. After your shower you throw yourself into the walls trying to either wipe off the wet, or collect the dirt you’d lost. You eat soap and razor blades.
You steal. Not only do you steal but you hoard as if expecting to be homeless. With the weather getting colder in the morning, I’m not one to chase you outside but you didn’t come when called today and I had to go out to find you. What greeted me was something I can’t quite wrap my head around. You were there, saw me and sat….. next to your bachelorette pad. For some reason, you have turned our drained pool into a home for your stolen items. Kylee’s Playground indeed! Your loot is everywhere and things gone missing for weeks are now explained.
You also dance backwards on your hind feet. We’ve seen a dog do the backwards conga line before, but not for as long as you are able to maintain it. How you manage this balance, yet still slide ten feet down a hallway, legs sprayed all over in pursuit of whatever was thrown baffles, but amuses us immensely. You look as though you hit a ski slope with how slick you manage to slide. You should go out for the Olympics.
Most mornings you are up far before I am, probably finding more junk to take into your collection but are very keen to me stirring and come galloping down the hallway hoping for breakfast. You never stop eating and get so overly excited to see me awake and it’s not always food driven, you TRULY want affection and your people to notice you. I wake up and shout “Puppy” and a thunder comes barreling down the hallway tail all but beating the paint off our walls with your glee.
You are also …… laughably ….. afraid of cats.
There is a kitty who is preggo and taken somewhat residence in our yard and you see her there and turn into a pointer. Tail out, head lowered, and instead of ready to pounce you are wondering at which point close is too close for your comfort. Then you look to us and ask your favorite question “What should we do?”
I can’t tell you how I adore your crazed expressions. It’s as though the entire world is a surprise and a shock to you. The wide eyes and oh my god faces you make are priceless. You are not a rabbit being chased, but telling you that is impossible.
I’ve been feeding you too much the last couple of days and some might think I’m getting a naughty puppy ready for thanksgiving supper, but I’m just bummed that we have to cut you off for the surgery because you enjoy food so damn much. Go figure. A dog? Loves food? Nawwwww!
Mama and Daddy are waiting for you to come home and love you very many. Don’t make us worry too much ok.
Love,
Mama
The Candy Cane of Judgement started this morning with Nice. Kylee.... sigh Kylee.... don't you understand that Santa KNOWS when you are naughty or nice? You are not a very slick theif.
Demoted. The mope begins.
In two days she has found and eaten all of these. I think she has some underground tunnel system going on, because my shoes are not on the floor. Or.... she's using the Russian to piggy-back and go on a KGB mission. He's easilly influenced.
Part of me wants to say "Nice haul!" Then I realize it's MY haul and want to beat her with each last one them. Should we get a gift card to Payless Shoes and let her go nuts? You hear stories of dogs eating shoes but I've never met a dog more fascinated with the smell of sweaty feet and shabblishly crafted footwear. Is she studying to be a cobbler? Are we somehow missing a hint?
And punished. She likes things on feet, well I like hats and things on my head. That's right, wear your Holiday Headband with shame!
Kylee got a stocking. Want to guess which is hers?
In case it was hard to decide.....
And yes I do fit into Mr. Morgan's stocking, in case anyone was wondering. He lives by the credo that because he's bigger, so should everything else be to accomodate him.
