Dear Diana and Michael:
In case you haven’t noticed, I am a terrier (a darned cute one at that, I might add). I am not a retriever. If you want the ball so badly - go get it yourself.
I don’t ask you to dig big holes in the back yard for me. I don’t ask you to bark at squirrels for me. I don’t ask you roll around in stinky weird stuff at the ocean for me. I do all that super cool stuff for myself.
Oh, sure, it’s fabulous to go to the park with you. I’m happy to beg, with my intense whining and annoying running back and forth to the door, every night. We have an awesome time walking to the park. How many flowers do I stop to sniff then look back at you and wag my tail because they smell wonderful? How many kids on bikes do I yell at? How many other dogs do I strive to intimidate? Hopefully - as many as possible…
But once at the park I do not want to chase the stupid ball. I do not want to chase the even more stupid Frisbee. I want to hang out with you. I want to practice my extraordinarily cute tricks that reap me significant cheese rewards and I want to roll around in the grass.
That’s it. That’s all it takes to be me.
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