Extremely patient dog.

Dear Sweet Dog,

I know you remember the good-ole days fondly. The days when YOU were our baby. When you got to splay across the bed on weekend mornings and got your belly rubbed by TWO people who had nothing else to do besides lay there for hours with the newspapers and some coffee. When you and I would take long hikes together and then come home to chase the ball in the backyard, followed by some 'training' (aka. Easy Treat Acquisition).

Those weekends seem like a lifetime ago (specifically the lifetime of one little person named Z). Boy howdy, I remember them too. (Sometimes a little TOO fondly. Some days, parenthood seems like an endless work week with a boss who whines, makes unreasonable demands and, of course, poops their pants and then has the nerve to scream and flail during the unpleasant, necessary changing of said poopy diaper. Plus? THERE IS NO WEEKEND.)

Now you have to deal with this little interloper who is not terribly interested in you. Except when you are sleeping, because that is when she decides you should wear your metal pronged collar and delights in dropping it on your head. Other times she is interested in you include: when you are eating something particularly tasty, when your eyeballs look like they could use a good gauging and when she has decided that it is YOU that should wear her hat.

For all of this, I'm sorry. But remember, you have your sister to thank for the yummy, plentiful food droppings around the dining room table, in the backseat of the car and on the patio during snack time.

I can only hope that you girls will grow up best friends and that you understand when I whisper into the velvety folds of your ear: "you will always be our first daughter".

love,

Your Clueless But Hopeful Mama.