The Dog

October 13, 2014 by theseordinarygraces In Rosie, Write 31 Days 2 Comments

Dear Rosie,

I just told your Daddy how mad I am at you. I said I was so tired today, worn out, at the end of my rope with him being gone right now and life still needing to be lived. Actually, I just said I was tired. So very tired. I didn’t know who I was going to write to today. Almost decided not to write at all.

Thank goodness for your inspiration! I came home from gymnastics and immediately thought it was strange that you didn’t come running. But I didn’t see anything wrong except the spoons you’d pulled off the counter. They were lying right where you left them when you were finished with them. Strewn aboutthe kitchen.

You eventually came to the kitchen with a less than enthusiastic greeting. Tail between your legs, ears flat against your head. Something was up. I went upstairs and didn’t see anything so I just thought you were being your weird self. . .ashamed that you’d been snoozing on my purple couch, the only furniture forbidden to you in this house.

Minutes went by. The next thing I heard was Ben crying out from the basement, “What happened down here?!”

Ah, so that’s where the crime occurred. I made my way downand what did I find? Every single snack from the snack basket ripped open and devoured. Crackers? Gone. Organic bunny grahams? Eaten. A giant chocolate motorcycle we were saving to reward Sam when he finally loses his grey tooth??? You guessed it. Gone. You made a little boy cry, Rosie.

I said some words to you then. Judging by the look on your face, you understood each and every one. I said it all in my calm voice. Maybe that made it a little scarier. Then I put you in the back yard and threw dirty looks at you through the glass. Maybe a few hand gestures. Couldn’t say for sure.

Right now you’re laying next to me without a care in the world. Well, except for that bird that’s taunting you from the tree our front. You totally deserve that, by the way.

You don’t seem to have any abdominal distress. Looks like you’ll live. Good thing, because I’d miss your super soft, plush, cuddly face.

At least you didn’t eat the raisins.