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Dear Snickers,

Truth time: you are not a dog. Your attempts to persuade me otherwise are just plain pitiful. Have some pride. Do you own a leash? No! Will you wear a collar? No! Do you come when called? No you don’t! Your whining at the door demanding to be “walked” is a delusion on your part. Snap out of it!

Furthermore, I don’t appreciate your assertions to the contrary by taking matters into your own paws. It’s 11 o’clock at night and prying the screen door open while I’m out walking Sophie is just passive aggressive. It’s dark outside and I don’t particularly enjoy hunting around in the cold looking for you. I refuse to chase you around the house more than 4 times ridiculously whispering, “Here Snickers,” because we’ve already established that you don’t come when called. Which, is why you are not allowed out in the first place. See how this works?

Seriously cat, it’s been an hour and if you don’t show up in the next three minutes, you’re spending the night out. Oh, I know, break your heart. But you should know this means no midnight snacks and no Craig Ferguson for you. I’m through with this nonsense. I know I said that last night, but this time I mean it! If I wanted another dog, I’d get one. And at the pace you’re setting, that could happen sooner than later. Just sayin’.