Oscar Boy, thank you for the Happy Father’s Day wishes.  I know you sent them to me telepathically because Boy I know you love me.  As your Daddy Dog, I felt it important to lay down (once again) a few ground rules in hopes this time, on my special day, they will sink in and guide you along your journey to adulthood.  Without your commitment to these core principles you will be yelled at, isolated, and forever compared to the two amazing poochie monsters we owned before you, Mabel and Hazel, your sisters and the two best canines who ever lived.

First, and foremost, never, ever, steal Mommy Dog’s sandwich again.  Unless, of course, you enjoyed seeing her meltdown before our very eyes.  While, I’m sure the turkey, bread, and vegetables were delicious, was it really worth making Mommy mad and being shut into the washroom alone for 10 minutes?  Eat your own food!

Next, you have destroyed our entire sprinkler system in the backyard.  This is also unacceptable behavior.  I’m sure you thought the plastic pipes and sprinkler heads were delectable, but repairing your chew toy will cost Daddy and Mommy about $3,500.  What were you thinking?  I already give you 3 rawhides per week.  Chew those!

The couch pillows, my socks, Mommy’s sports bra, our shoes, the trash, used Kleenex, and your blanket were not purchased for you to put into your mouth.  Stop, please stop, or you’re going to be in big trouble.  You have at least two dozen legal toys to play with like the Kong ball, countless tennis balls, stuffed Squirrel, Moose, Duck, and Beaver, the Birthday Monkey and a Tug Toy which are all SAFE to chew.  Play with those!

By adherence to Daddy Dog’s rules, your reward is a lifelong overabundance of love, two square meals a day, treats for any good reason including acceptable behavior like sit, down, stay, come, leave it and wait, car rides when we have to run errands, multiple walks per day, a weekend visit to the Dog Park, sleeping in the same bed as Mommy and Daddy, an annual beach romp and swim and the aforementioned rawhides during the evening.

Now, I know you can’t understand this but I sure wish you could.  You also need to know the rest of your family and the expectations we have put upon you based on your siblings.  Your pack includes two more who you will never know until we all meet up one day at The Rainbow Bridge.  But, oh, they were good dogs.

Your oldest sister, Mabel (a Yellow you), was adopted at a mere 6 weeks.  She was the runt of her litter and quite possibly the best behaved dog we’ve ever owned.  Though she had her moments including nipping at Mommy’s heels so incessantly she was nearly given up.  Eventually, she grew out of puppyhood, drove with us across the country from Alameda, California to Boston, Massachusetts and lived an amazing, fun-filled life until Spondylosis got her in the end.  The worst thing she ever did was drink my whiskey and push Mommy Dog out of bed.  She was my favorite.

Hazel (a chocolate), your middle sister, was discovered at Seal Beach Animal Control Center, where I volunteered part-time.  She was known for her beautiful, high-pitched, singing voice when a visitor entered the room, snuggling underneath the blankets, and enthusiastic walks.  Like you, she would do anything for a treat.  She lived a long life but forever wished she knew the reason her first pack gave her up.  We never understood either.  She was Mommy’s favorite and a wonderful dog.

You’ve still got a chance, Oscar Boy, to become a favorite of ours too.  But you better shape up and you better start minding us better and real quick.  We can’t always pay attention to you, though we know that’s what you want.  We can’t always play and give you treats and let you do whatever the hell you want.  The only thing that saves you, Oscar, is your adorable face.  Your sweet disposition in the morning, from which only God knows where it comes from, is behavior we want to see more of.  Even lying on your back, showing us your furry wiener is better than being an asshole.

Don’t be an asshole.

Love, Daddy J. Dog