Dear Frank,
Is that your name? Apparently that is what the family calls you, not that I give a rat's ass. Listen buddy, it was bad enough when Rowan came along. It took me a good long while and about a year's worth of dog therapy, but I have slowly moved into what the experts call the acceptance phase. If you must know, things have been pretty good around the house before you showed up last Saturday. The kid goes to daycare, mommy (aka the woman I like to leg hump) isn't working so much and I have been getting lots of pats, and walks. It all boils down to attention for me Frank. That is the key to my happiness. That and food. So you can imagine my concern when you sauntered your fat butt into MY house last week. Seriously? Dude, you can't even jump up on the bed or jump down from it without the humans having to carry you up and down.
The first few days were rough. I have to admit that looking back it was a full on battle of wills at that point. You would go near mommy, daddy or Rowan. I would rip your face off. You would look at me for too long. Again, I wanted to destroy your life. And then, you went and did what will put you on my shit list for at least a week (which is way more in dog years) you took my CHEWIES. That's right Frank the Tank, you stole my food. Big Mistake. Huge. At that point, I saw red, and went for the juggler. I think they refer to that in shrink jargon as temporary insanity. You need to know that there is a pecking chain in this here family and that you are on the bottom. Well you may be in front of mommy, because she is apparently every one's doormat. I am writing this to you after being annoyed and inconvenienced by your smelly presence for exactly a week now. I have stopped wasting my time to try an inflict violence and fury against your world. The only reason I am stopping is because daddy gives me a poke in the back every time I do this, and it really sends me into a tail spin when daddy is mad at me. Don't read anything into this. I am not going to play with you yet or be your best friend. I just watch safely from a distance giving you my look of utter disgust.
Surprisingly, my humans like you. They give you all sorts of pats and plays. They have gotten some things that are apparently going to help with that foul breath that you got going on. They have been cleaning your ears, brushing your teeth, you know getting you up to speed in the cleanliness department.
This is the kicker Frank. Never in my wildest dreams did I think you were actually going to sleep in MY bed. What I mean is my parents bed. You know the king sized one with the nice Italian sheets that I like to blow my nose in...Fun trick I'll teach you to annoy the humans should we ever become Bffs.
Is that your name? Apparently that is what the family calls you, not that I give a rat's ass. Listen buddy, it was bad enough when Rowan came along. It took me a good long while and about a year's worth of dog therapy, but I have slowly moved into what the experts call the acceptance phase. If you must know, things have been pretty good around the house before you showed up last Saturday. The kid goes to daycare, mommy (aka the woman I like to leg hump) isn't working so much and I have been getting lots of pats, and walks. It all boils down to attention for me Frank. That is the key to my happiness. That and food. So you can imagine my concern when you sauntered your fat butt into MY house last week. Seriously? Dude, you can't even jump up on the bed or jump down from it without the humans having to carry you up and down.
The first few days were rough. I have to admit that looking back it was a full on battle of wills at that point. You would go near mommy, daddy or Rowan. I would rip your face off. You would look at me for too long. Again, I wanted to destroy your life. And then, you went and did what will put you on my shit list for at least a week (which is way more in dog years) you took my CHEWIES. That's right Frank the Tank, you stole my food. Big Mistake. Huge. At that point, I saw red, and went for the juggler. I think they refer to that in shrink jargon as temporary insanity. You need to know that there is a pecking chain in this here family and that you are on the bottom. Well you may be in front of mommy, because she is apparently every one's doormat. I am writing this to you after being annoyed and inconvenienced by your smelly presence for exactly a week now. I have stopped wasting my time to try an inflict violence and fury against your world. The only reason I am stopping is because daddy gives me a poke in the back every time I do this, and it really sends me into a tail spin when daddy is mad at me. Don't read anything into this. I am not going to play with you yet or be your best friend. I just watch safely from a distance giving you my look of utter disgust.
Surprisingly, my humans like you. They give you all sorts of pats and plays. They have gotten some things that are apparently going to help with that foul breath that you got going on. They have been cleaning your ears, brushing your teeth, you know getting you up to speed in the cleanliness department.
This is the kicker Frank. Never in my wildest dreams did I think you were actually going to sleep in MY bed. What I mean is my parents bed. You know the king sized one with the nice Italian sheets that I like to blow my nose in...Fun trick I'll teach you to annoy the humans should we ever become Bffs.
I'll tell you Frank I am wearing down. At this point, I am willing to tolerate your existence, and I have not been trying to start a fight with you in the last few days. At this point I am not sure if you are going to be a permenant fixture at the Eaton house. Jury's still out on that from my perspective.
Mommy has taken pictures of Frank a few days back, but I wasn't in the right frame of mind, and asked her to delete them from her computer. Maybe next week.
Mommy proof read this document and wants me to tell you that she wants to talk about all of this from her perspective in the next few days.
I am watching you,
Lola Bean (AKA the queen of the house)
