Dear Greta,

I am writing this letter to you because there are some things I want to tell you that may be difficult for you to hear. I think you should sit down.

You have always been very cute. I’ve always enjoyed your zest for life and your ability to make me laugh. You have always been able to capture the attention of anyone you meet and you have always been fun to be around. Lately though, my opinion of you has changed in many ways and that is the reason I am writing this letter to you today.

This past Tuesday morning when you woke me up because you needed to go outside, I got up out of bed and put on my cold Adidas slippers and my jogging pants (which by the way don’t provide any protection against the cold – the wind comes in through the fabric and whips in and out at will) and my old brown shirt (which is missing a button and also allows the wind in and out and in and out and in and out whenever it feels like it) and took you down stairs. This is something that I do for you every day of your life ever since you came to live with me. When we got down there and I saw those great big smelly dutes you left all over the floor I was in shock. Piecing it together I’m guessing you went down there in the middle of the night and just relieved yourself all over the place without any thought of the morning and my disappointment or the now 61 weeks of training we have endeavored to provide you.

Here we are on week 62 of your training and you still don’t get it. The worst part about it was that I had to leave the big smelly dutes on the floor and take you outside to go pee before I could clean up your “accident” because otherwise we both know you would have just peed on my floor next to your big smelly dutes while I cleaned them up.

Do you know what I want to do when I get out of bed in the morning? I want to go to the bathroom myself! And I don’t want to put on my stupid jogging pants and slippers and my big brown shirt and go stand in the dark and cold so you can walk around and smell the grass and bark at the dark. I wish you would just go out the door and go pee pees and potties like I ask and do it right away. Lately I think you prefer to just go inside on my carpet because it’s nice and warm inside and because you don’t care about my feelings at all.

Then when I came in and remembered that there were great big smelly dutes sitting on the floor and stood there staring at them contemplating how I was going to pick them up, you pretended like they weren’t yours! That so annoyed me. The least you could do at that point is to own up to the fact that you just took a dump on my floor. I liked how you tried to walk past the big brown pile of mess on the carpet and not make eye contact with it like maybe I wouldn’t notice this huge pile of smelly dog pies sitting right there in the middle of my living room.

It sucked big time when I realized we were out of paper towels and I had to go into the bathroom (which by the way is the appropriate place to put your big piles of steaming feces but forget it because I know you aren’t even listening to what I’m saying anyway) and get toilet paper so I could wad it up and grab the now cold pooh piles and take them to the toilet and flush them down and out of my life. Since I didn’t have paper towels I had to make two trips back and forth from your mess pile to the bathroom holding cold smelly poopy piles in my wadded up toilet paper tongs that I made so I wouldn’t get your dung all over my fingers. Then I thought I could smell #2 on my finger which is probably the worst smelling foulness that anyone should ever have to smell so I had to wash my hands repeatedly and all before I HAD A CHANCE TO GO USE THE BATHROOM MYSELF!

You are just totally inconsiderate and self-centered. Do you see me and your mom dropping trou whenever we want to and just relieving ourselves all over our carpet and furniture? When you jump up on the couch, do you ever jump into a big pile that I left there for you? No, of course not. Just once I’d like you to have to clean up poop that I leave on the floor. You would get it all over your paws because you don’t have thumbs or any ability to make toilet paper tongs, you asshole. My mother warned me about you and I should have listened.

Now, I love you and I want what’s best for you. Really, I wish it were ok for you to drop your kibble pellets on my carpet and then we’d all be happy living in amongst the eukanuba-dute-strewn landscape of our living room, but this isn’t reality. The reality is that my carpet won’t ever be the same and its all because of you. I really want you to start to make some sort of effort to only go potties when you are outside. I’m not even going to get into the inside pee-pee problem, but you know what I’m talking about. I hope you enjoy your stay at the vet tonight getting shots from Dr. Beste with the cold rubber gloves and nose acne.

by: Your Loving but Disappointed Master